


Teddy Lupin and the Needle's Eye

by FernWithy



Series: Teddy Lupin [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-02 23:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 146,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FernWithy/pseuds/FernWithy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teddy Lupin, healed from his experiences in the Daedalus Maze, is enjoying his life and looking forward to his final year with his friends at Hogwarts.   But the war everyone had thought long over comes crashing back into their lives when a serial killer appears and starts targeting Voldemort's collaborators.</p><p>Working with the Department of Mysteries and his ex-girlfriend, Ruthless -- now an Auror in training -- Teddy and the Smallest Year  must come together one last time to solve a mystery and help the wizarding world finally come to terms with its own past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Debt To Society

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seventeen years after the end of the war, the first prisoners' sentences are over. They are mainly Ministry officials who participated somewhat over-enthusiastically. Their release is not welcomed by much of the world, which wants to forget, or by Harry Potter, who fears that their appearance might scare up Death Eaters who escaped, wanting to take vengeance on people who failed. He's also concerned about the level of anger of people on his own side... and it's more than justified when they find the body of Albert Runcorn, mutilated, hanging from a wire strung across the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

See Papillon82's [cover for this story](http://papillon82.deviantart.com/art/Cover-art-Needle-s-Eye-454459187) at deviantart.

* * *

Diagon Alley was dark, the gas lamps extinguished, the shops and restaurants closed. The last couples who had been out strolling in the soft July night had gone home hours ago, and the great charmed signs were still. Shadows lay across the tiny park that had been carved out where Florean Fortescue's shop had once been. From the Magical Menagerie, the quiet sounds of sleeping animals whispered across the cobblestones, and a tiny candle was the only sign of the night guard at Gringotts.  
  
Only one building was fully lit, and through its windows, a lonely traveler would have seen a hive of activity--wizards and witches shouting to each other, waving papers, scrambling to finish the night's work. These were the offices of the _Daily Prophet_ , and as its new editor, Rita Skeeter, liked to say, "The news doesn't sleep, and neither do we."  
  
"What's best?" a young man still losing his teenage spots called, waving around two bits of parchment. "I've got one from a lady whose husband still can't talk after Runcorn turned him in as a Muggle-born, and one from a woman who can't use her hands right since Edgecombe turned her over to Umbridge for being disobedient."  
  
"I got you beat, Bangs!" a middle-aged witch answered. "Got someone dead, here. Man says Hopkirk put his mother's file straight onto Travers desk, just out of spite. The mother was trying to spy."  
  
"Will all of you shut up?" the elderly witch with banana-yellow hair ordered. "I'm trying to write an editorial! Just throw a dart to pick the letters. They'll all be fine."  
  
The young wizard called Bangs reached randomly into the pile on his desk, came up with a handful of letters, and went over to her. "What are you going to say, Rita? People are really angry."  
  
Rita sniffed. "Well, they _have_ actually finished their sentences. They've been out for a day without bringing back the Death Eater regime as well."  
  
"You're going to be reasonable?"  
  
Rita tapped her quill on the parchment. "The people writing letters are angry, but most of them want to forget. They want the _Prophet_ to acknowledge the news, but, dear boy, what they _desperately_ want is to go on with their lives and not think about the nastiness of the war anymore. I think a token editorial slap on the wrist will suffice for Mafalda and Albert and the others. They weren't Death Eaters, after all, just... overzealous office workers. I imagine if we dig far enough into that pile of letters, we'll find others saying that seventeen years was too long." She scratched her quill thoughtfully, then said, "I wonder if it's time to start questioning the trials. Complaints about show trials always move papers."  
  
Bangs frowned. "But I thought the war trials were known to be fair. Didn't Hermione Weasley--well, Granger, then--go on and on about how it all had to be by the law, and there wasn't to be any revenge?"  
  
"Well, of course she did. What else would she have said? But she was at school that year, and heaven knows what was really done."  
  
"We... we have the transcripts."  
  
"The official ones. I wonder what might have slipped through the cracks. You're too young to really remember. It was all quite confusing." She grinned unpleasantly. "Yes--people are bored with the war. They don't want to think of it. It's over and done with. But the people who ran the trials are still in power. _They're_ not boring. Go get me the transcripts, Bangs. Let me see what's lurking between the lines."  
  
"Can't you just Summon them?"  
  
"They're in the archives. Protected from being Summoned out. Go on."  
  
"The archives?"  
  
"Yes, the little building around the bend, just past Knockturn Alley. You know it."  
  
"Yes, but it's three-thirty in the morning."  
  
"No one's been in charge of the archives for years. We have the security charms. You won't bother a soul."  
  
Bangs looked deeply uncomfortable with this, but he'd barely finished his apprenticeship; it wasn't time to contradict Rita Skeeter.  
  
He shook his head and headed out into the night.  
  
It was shockingly quiet once the door to the Prophet's offices was shut, and there was something eerie about the sound of his feet on the cobblestones. A fog was rising around his feet, and he turned his collar up against it. He lit his wand, more for company than light under the full moon. He passed the Magical Menagerie, and Gringotts, and tried to steer clear of the dark maw that opened into Knockturn Alley. People would be awake _there_ , no doubt, but he didn't want to deal with them.  
  
If he hadn't stumbled, he might never have seen the thing hanging from the wire, so intent was he on not looking in that direction. But the cobbles were loose, and as he swerved away from the crooked corner that led to the Dark Arts district, his ankle turned on a loose stone, and as he caught himself, he looked up involuntarily.  
  
And began to scream.

* * *

Harry Potter had been on the alert for this since the first news had been printed that Ministry war criminals were being released at the end of their terms. There were plenty of angry people, of course, but what had snagged in his mind was the image of Barty Crouch, Jr, saying that there was nothing he hated more than a Death Eater who'd escaped. It rang in his mind when he was at work, and kept him awake in bed long after Ginny drifted off at night.  
  
"We _got_ them all," she'd mumbled when he'd awakened her two nights ago. "You don't have to fight Death Eaters anymore, Harry. The only ones left are the Malfoys, and they're not stupid enough to do anything."  
  
She was right, but he couldn't help feeling on edge. Hermione thought he was just feeling the tension of the last year of the war, but he didn't think so, and neither did Ron. Ron was also on edge, as were Anthony Goldstein and Dan Williams. So was the rest of the division, even people who had been too young to have fought in the war, like Sam Cresswell and Ruth Scrimgeour (the latter of whom had just begun her apprenticeship under Ron in June). When Ron's Patronus had dropped into Harry's bedroom with the news, it had been unpleasant... but not at all a surprise.  
  
"Where is he?" Ron asked Apparating in beside him.  
  
Harry pointed to the mouth of Knockturn Alley, which was now lit brightly with about fifty torches. Ruth was bent down beside a scrawny wizard who seemed to be having hysterics.  
  
She looked up. "Sorry to get you out of bed, but I thought this qualified as one of those emergencies I was supposed to contact you with if they came in on the graveyard shift."  
  
"Yeah, I'd say so," Ron said, then grimaced at the thing in the alley. He started over, then stopped. "Harry, that's-- Well, it's the bloke that..."  
  
Harry looked up for the first time.  
  
The body was hanging from a wire suspended across Knockturn Alley. The wizard had once had gray hair, but it was now matted with rusty drying blood. His throat had been slit, and Harry truly hoped it had been before the deep insults that had been done to the body. The eyes had been sliced from corner to corner, and the jaw had been nailed shut.  
  
"Harry," Ron said, "that's Runcorn. _Your_ Runcorn, the one that..."  
  
Harry stepped back.  
  
He did know the mutilated face. He'd seen it every day, watching the Ministry entrance, waiting to see who habitually showed up alone. And he'd worn it, on the day he'd made off with the locket Horcrux and Mad-Eye Moody's eye.  
  
He blinked. "Put a guard on Mafalda Hopkirk," he said. "Reg Cattermole and his wife as well.  I don't know if there's a connection, but... do it."  
  
Ron nodded, then turned on his heel and disappeared.  
  
Harry went to the wizard Ruth was talking to, who seemed to be calming down. He crouched down. "Did you see or hear anything before you saw the body?"  
  
"No. It was completely quiet."  
  
Harry nodded, and looked at Ruth. "Take him down, and find out how long he's been dead." She went, and he looked back at the man. "Could someone have passed you in the fog, or run off into the fog in the other direction?"  
  
"I don't think so. Unless he went down Knockturn Alley. I couldn't hear much from there."  
  
"I'll talk to the shopkeepers," Harry said. "Are you going to be all right?"  
  
He nodded. "Well, I've got a hell of an exclusive, anyway." He gave a brittle sort of laugh. "I think Rita's rubbing off on me, I'm sorry, I--" He stopped and threw up.  
  
Harry patted his shoulder, and sent a Patronus to St. Mungo's to have someone come pick the young man up. He went to Ruth, who had Levitated the body down gently, to avoid jarring any evidence loose. "Any ideas?" he asked.  
  
"I haven't even done the charm to see how long he's been dead yet."  
  
"Do it."  
  
She set to the charm, which was a complex one that reached into all of the body's systems, and he stood to examine the crime scene. The wire had come down with the body--it was threaded through his ankles--and there wasn't nearly enough blood for this to be the place where Runcorn had been butchered. He'd been strung up here for some reason.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
He looked over. Ruth was carefully pulling something up from the corner of Runcorn's eye.  
  
"What is it?" Harry asked.  
  
She completed the process. It was something long and thin and covered with bloody, viscous fluid. "It's a sewing needle," she said. "What the--?"  
  
The needle flashed suddenly in her hand, and twirled up into the darkness. It exploded into a small shower of silver light, and words formed in the air:  
  
"You can pass the justice of this world, but you cannot pass through the needle's eye."  
  
The words swirled together, grew bright until they were like a small sun, then exploded, the force of it blowing out all the torches.  
  
Diagon Alley was dark again.


	2. Rocky Mountain High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy's first trip with his friends when they're all of age is going along pleasantly (despite a minor Animagus snafu), but it is interrupted by the news that the war is making its presence known at home

"The lightning looks closer here," Maurice Burke said to no one in particular, looking anxiously up at the dome that was protecting the boys on the mountainside from the furious storm around them. He was sitting in a tightly coiled position, making him look even smaller than he was. The others kept trying to tell him that he had a couple of good growth spurts left in him, but most of them had privately given it up as a bad job.  
  
Corky Atkinson, on the other hand, had got quite huge, and no one doubted that he had at least a few more inches in him. "We're at nearly ten thousand feet," he said. "The lightning _is_ closer."  
  
"Will the dome hold?"  
  
"Only if you really believe in it, and clap your hands, and say, 'I _do_ believe in Charms Class, I _do_ believe in Charms Class.'"  
  
Maurice glared at him. "Sod off."  
  
Roger Young wasn't paying attention to this. His eyes kept drifting over to a pair of cages that were set up on the table between the tents. "We really should let them out," he said. "They've learnt their lesson, I'm sure."  
  
"Let 'em stew," Corky said, rolling his eyes. "If they're going to do illegal magic, and get caught by Muggles sneaking around a concert hall, and make me waste hours tracking them down and risking getting caught by some Muggle gamekeeper..."  
  
"Oh, yes, you were nearly thrown in prison," Maurice said. "Was she sending secret messages to the authorities with all that eyelash batting she was doing?" He clasped his hands over his heart, and made a fluttery sort of sound.  
  
Corky sighed. "You know, it's true. She was nice. And good-looking if you like the all-natural type. Maybe I should take them back. She really wanted a pet raccoon when I told her it was all the rage in Canada. And it really does need to go to a good home."  
  
One of the cages shuddered, as a large raccoon rammed against the side. In the other, a hawk screeched, but was drowned out by another clap of thunder. Maurice jumped and looked up at the sky, spooked.  
  
In his cage, Teddy Lupin tapped his talons against the bars. Corky had made them Unbreakable, which made it quite impossible to transform back to his real shape. Donzo was in the same predicament, all because they'd decided that they wanted to see how Muggle concert equipment worked, and the stage manager--who didn't know Donzo McCormack from Adam--had turned them down and locked up. There was a small opening that they could get through as animals, but they hadn't counted on a late night dress rehearsal, or on having animal control called in. There hadn't been a moment out of Muggle sight until Corky had bargained them out, saying they were pets who'd got away.  
  
The rain, which Teddy had thought was coming down as hard as it could, got harder, turning the protective dome they'd Conjured a bright, opaque white.  
  
Corky came over the cages. "All right, Lupin. McCormack. If I let you out, will you beg forgiveness?"  
  
Teddy turned and showed his tail feathers, and the hiss that came from Donzo's cage sounded like the same sort of answer.  
  
"Oh, all right. _Finite incantatem._ And _Alohomora._ "  
  
The cage door popped open, and Teddy hopped out, jumped down to the ground, and transformed. "You're spending too much time with Higgs," he said. "You're turning evil."  
  
"We knew it would happen," Donzo said, coming up from all fours.  
  
Corky made a vaguely obscene gesture, then lay down on top of his sleeping bag. "So, presuming the two of you aren't going to find some new and creative way into prison, what's up for tomorrow?"  
  
"Maybe we'll just leave you here," Teddy said.  
  
"I want to hike the trail up to the old train depot," Roger suggested, ignoring the sparring. "I told Hagrid I'd see if I could spot a cactus cat."  
  
"We're mostly out of cactus cat territory," Donzo said, stretching hugely. "We should have checked for those back in New Mexico."  
  
"Yes, well, unfortunately, we had to make a quick exit from Santa Fe," Corky said.  
  
"Can we hike it anyway?" Roger asked. "It looks like a nice walk."  
  
Maurice, who looked as though Roger had proposed a pleasant walk along the River Styx, shook his head wildly. "I think we'd best get on to Denver. Don's got a show."  
  
"We're all of age," Teddy pointed out. "We can Apparate if it gets late."  
  
Donzo sighed. "He's right, Moe. You got to call what we were doing in New York."  
  
"Oh, fine." Maurice slumped down with the air of a martyr to madness. "But let's go into town first, get the gold deposited and sent back to Gringotts."  
  
This was agreeable to everyone, which was something of a rarity this summer. In previous summers, they'd had to travel with the Weird Sisters, on their tour schedule. For the first time, they were free to go anywhere at all--provided Donzo got to the shows all right--and it hadn't occurred to them that they all wanted to see entirely different things. Donzo and Roger, who'd got to be friends last year, as they were the only two NEWT students in Care of Magical Creatures, were anxious to be in natural settings. Corky had toured most of the magical sites in the States with his parents when he'd been young, and he wanted to see Muggle tourist sites (including odd things like a giant ball of twine and several horrendously ugly plastic statues). Maurice wanted to take in the cultural sites in New York and Boston ("And Los Angeles, if that's really culture"), and Teddy himself was fond of historical sites where oddly timid guides joked nervously about the Revolution, then apologized, whey-faced, for having been potentially offensive. He loved seeing all of the old houses and furniture and trappings of the lives of great men and women. They all carried a charge that was almost magical in nature, like they'd absorbed some of the fierce energy of the people who had once lived among them. He thought he might study this in his rotation through the Time division next year. Uncle Harry might even let him ransack Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, for artifacts.  
  
Despite their disagreements, they'd managed to get through the differences with only a few setbacks. It was just a question of fairness and taking turns, and they were all too enamored of their freedom to let arguments spoil the summer.  
  
The question settled for the moment, they all gathered around the campfire, keeping warm and talking about very little. Corky took his share of teasing about Honoria Higgs, largely because he knew none of them really meant it anymore (he _did_ tend to lose his temper with people who attacked her sincerely, and it wasn't pretty). Teddy told a story he'd heard about a madman who stalked campers, looking for his golden arm. Donzo sang a little bit, including the inevitable "Rocky Mountain High," and they passed around a bottle of Firewhiskey. None of them drank much of it--at ten thousand feet here in Osier, Colorado, they were quite lightheaded enough without it.  
  
Morning came in a flash of brilliant gold, the sunrise reflecting on the trees and fields still heavily laden with last night's rain. The glimmering tracks of a Muggle train wrapped themselves around the mountain like a sparkling brook, and morning flowers opened themselves up to the sun.  
  
"I could get used to this," Donzo said, pouring a cup of tea and looking out over all of it.  
  
Groggily, Teddy agreed, and set about making his own breakfast.  
  
By the time they'd all eaten, they were quite awake, and they cleaned up camp to Disapparate to the small city of Alamosa, where Roger thought they could get a trail map at the single known wizarding store, which was also the wizarding bank, and the wizarding post office. If the Muggles thought anything of the rows of owls nesting on the porch rail, they didn't seem to show it. As Teddy went up the stairs, a passing girl tossed a meatball into the air, and an owl flew up to catch it. The girl giggled and went by without looking back or commenting on it.  
  
Maurice led the way in. A bell over the door chimed softly into a dusty room with unfinished wooden walls and exposed ceiling beams. Most of the shelves were taken up with camping gear that was equally unuseful to wizards and Muggles, or with plastic kitsch that no one in his right mind would buy. Most of it had accumulated a furry coat of dust. In one corner, a non-descript set of shelves held glass balls set in plastic dragon's talons, poorly rendered unicorn figures, and what appeared to be gnomes in wizard's hats. Maurice went straight to this and tapped a few of the gnomes. Frowning, he tried the unicorn.  
  
A fresh breeze blew through the shop, the dust swirling away to reveal magical supplies of all sorts, potions ingredients behind the counter, sweets of the same sort Teddy might find in Honeydukes (though there was collection of sugar skulls from Mexico that only periodically made their way to Hogsmeade), and a rack of newspapers from around the world. A small wizard in cowboy boots and a tall hat appeared at the counter and said, "What can I do for you folks?"  
  
"Got some gold to deposit to Gringotts in London," Maurice said, going over.  
  
While he took care of that business, Teddy browsed the bookshelves, looking for anything of local interest, while Corky amused himself with the kitschy unicorn figurines and Roger and Donzo went looking for maps near the newspapers. He was fully involved in the cover text of a book on Mexican Herbologists when Donzo came up and said, "Lupin."  
  
He looked up dazedly, expecting that Donzo would be impatiently tugging the others along to go on the hike. Instead, all four of them were there, and Donzo had a copy of the _Daily Prophet_.  
  
"What's happened?" Teddy asked, noting their grave faces. "My granny? Uncle Harry?"  
  
"What?" Donzo shook his head quickly, negating the possibility. "No, but--"  
  
He turned the newspaper around and opened it so Teddy could see the headline, which was in four-inch scare type:

**"MURDER IN DIAGON ALLEY:  
Has The War Come Back To Town?"**

Something cold and sour turned over in Teddy's stomach, and he took the paper. The opening paragraphs gave the bare facts of the case--the body of Albert Runcorn, one of the war prisoners recently released at the end of his term, had been found mutilated (the wounds were not described) and hanging from a wire across Knockturn Alley. He'd apparently been found by "a _Prophet_ staff member," though that staff member wasn't mentioned in the article, which bore Rita Skeeter's byline.  
  
After the description of the crime, she went on:  
  
 _This murder, of course, touches on the great tragedies of our recent war--the effects that linger like the stench of a rotting corpse. Albert Runcorn was imprisoned for passing information to Lord Voldemort regarding the manufactured blood status papers of various Muggle-borns, particularly those who wished to remain in the employ of the Ministry of Magic (though of course, it was tragically necessary for even those who simply wanted to stay out of the fight to manufacture such papers as well).  
  
For seventeen years, we've lived comfortably in victory, the past only making its presence known once, in the escape of Fenrir Greyback--_ Teddy braced himself _\--which ended under mysterious circumstances in the village of Hogsmeade, when he apparently burned to death in a fire at the structure once known as the Shrieking Shack, owned in trust by Harry Potter for his godson Ted Lupin (son of famed werewolf, Remus Lupin). The origin of the fire is unknown to this date._  
  
Teddy let his breath his out through his teeth. He had started the fire, when he'd sent Greyback through an unactivated Floo, setting him aflame. He'd caught the curtains from there and died before he even made it across the room.   
  
_Whatever happened_ , Rita wrote, _few tears were shed over the death of a monster who had terrorized us, and the very finality of his ending seemed to reinforce the notion that the war was over, that any remnants would be dealt with swiftly and completely, and no one needed to concern himself with it anymore.  
  
With the first wave of releases--the Ministry officials, including Runcorn, Mafalda Hopkirk, Harriet Edgecombe, Arnold Peasegood, and John Dawlish, among others--we are once again plunged into that troubled time.   
  
Already, questions are being raised. Was the Ministry properly protecting those it had loosed into the general population? Who is angriest with them... those who were hurt by their actions, or those whose regime was brought down by their incompetence? Make no mistake, the latter still exist in our land, hiding in plain sight, staying silent until they can speak again..._  
  
Teddy scanned the rest of the article, which was in a similar vein, then switched to the letters page. Some of the letters still dealt with the releases themselves, but Rita had apparently decided to give more space to whatever letters she'd got overnight. No letter writer expressed any sorrow at Runcorn's passing, but some blamed the Ministry for letting this sort of "nastiness" through, and several proposed Byzantine conspiracy theories about Death Eaters still in the Ministry, in the know about where those who'd "got off easy" would be found. One woman tentatively suggested that it might be "our side," but most of the letters reacted to such an idea with great indignation.  
  
He finished reading and handed some gold to the shopkeeper, then tucked it into his bag, going out to the front porch, among the owls. He sat in a splintery wooden chair. The others followed. Donzo sat in a rocking chair beside a chessboard and said, "Should we go back?"  
  
"You can't," Teddy said. "You're contracted for two more shows."  
  
"And I need to stay and deal with the business end of it," Maurice said.  
  
"Why would we need to go?" Corky asked, and Roger nodded. "I mean, this really doesn't have anything to do with us."  
  
"Uncle Harry'll be in the thick of it," Teddy said. "And I think Runcorn's the one who turned in a bloke that was traveling with my Granddad, which is why he ended up dead, so Granny'll be..." He stopped. He wasn't entirely sure how his grandmother would react. When he'd started, it had occurred to him that it might upset her to have all of that brought up again, but Andromeda Tonks didn't take being upset lightly. There were rumors about how much Dark Magic she knew, having grown up with Bellatrix and Narcissa, and most people who knew her at all knew she had a temper and... He sighed. He doubted she'd have done anything, but she had motive, and if she wasn't at least cursorily examined, Uncle Harry would be eaten alive for playing favorites, no matter what people said about "our side." "I have to go back," he said. "The rest of you, stay. Take pictures."  
  
"Are you sure?" Donzo asked.  
  
Teddy nodded.  
  
Donzo looked at him for a long time, then nodded back. "All right, then. But don't get too drawn into it."  
  
Maurice's serious expression suddenly broke, and he laughed.  
  
"What?" Donzo asked.  
  
"Well... where have you been for the last six years if you think _that_ warning's going to do any good? Lupin might as well put a sign on his dormitory door saying, 'Come back later, I'm too drawn into it just now.'"  
  
Teddy smiled. "Well, it's not like it's ever my _fault_..."  
  
They spent until noon in town together, and Teddy put things out of his mind for those last two hours, while the others got ready for their hike. They went to lunch together at a little Mexican restaurant, and tried again to dare Maurice into eating the local hot peppers ("You've mistaken me for a Gryffindor if you think daring me is going to work," he said, eating rice and beans with no sauce), then went to the edge of town, to the secluded spot where they'd appeared this morning.  
  
"You're sure?" Donzo asked again. "Because I could cancel..."  
  
"Don't cancel tour dates on your first solo tour," Teddy told him. "Go on."  
  
Donzo nodded, and the four of them Disapparated back to the camp site. A second later, Teddy's backpack and bedroll appeared in front of him. He Charmed them down to the size of a small book bag, slung it over his shoulder, and began the process of getting home.  
  
It was perfectly possible to Apparate over short hops of the country, so he simply took tiny steps across America--Colorado into the middle of Kansas (he was unnerved by the apparent size of the sky in Kansas), Kansas to Missouri, Missouri to Indiana to Ohio to New York to Boston. In Boston, he took the Muggle subway to Logan Airport and found his way to Terminal X, which was accessed through a magazine shop on the concourse. (They'd originally wanted the access point to be through a gate, but apparently, it had become quite difficult to get close to the gates without a Muggle ticket in hand.)  
  
Once there, he bought a ticket for the giant Portkey (it looked like a coat-tree with far too many arms reaching out over a wide circular platform) and took the next one out to Heathrow, Terminal Eight and a Third. It was quite late at night here. He went to the row of Floos, thought for a moment, then said, "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."  
  
He nearly plowed James Potter over as he fell out of the fireplace.  
  
"Teddy!"  
  
"James... sorry! Why are you...?"  
  
"Lily put a dress on Martian so I hid all of her dolls, and they got stuck in one of the cursed wardrobes, and it broke her nose, so I have to clean the ashes for four weeks, and are you back from America? Did you see a cowboy? Or learn to ride a horse?"  
  
"Er..."  
  
"Was there a wendigo? What about a jackalope?"  
  
"Well, no. Wait, yes. I did see a jackalope, but it was at a Muggle shop. Quite clever--enough of them had been seen that a wizard turned it into a running joke so that no one takes it seriously. Silly things have quite overrun a few places in the desert, as I understood it." Teddy smiled. "James, I need to talk to Uncle Harry. Is he here?"  
  
James's face fell. "He's at work still. Some Azkaban person was killed."  
  
"I know. That's why I'm back."  
  
"Oh." James kicked at a cinder. "He's not saying anything about it. He told me I didn't need to fill my head with it, but I'm almost as old as he was when he started doing things, and--"  
  
"James, he doesn't want us having to do the things he did."  
  
"--and only a little younger than _you_ were when you started fighting with Red Caps--"  
  
"I wasn't fighting with them, they just attacked me."  
  
"--and only a little younger than Mum was when she had the diary!"  
  
"Oh, yes, I'm sure that will be a powerful argument."  
  
"You know what I mean." James ground his teeth. "It's not fair. I'll be eleven _in_ September."  
  
"The rules are the rules.  You have to be eleven by September the first."  
  
"That one's really stupid."  
  
"No arguments here."  
  
James sniffed, and started sweeping again, then stopped. "Oh! I almost forgot. Grannydromeda's here. She came right after the murder happened, and she and Dad yelled at each other, and she wanted to go to work with him, and he told her to stay at the house and they'd talk later, but he's still not home."  
  
Teddy blinked. "Where is she?"

"Dining room, last I knew."

Teddy nodded and went upstairs to the gloomy formal dining room.  He found her there with books piled up beside her and a scroll open in front of her. Her quill scratched along at a rapid pace, and she wore a slight scowl that, as a child, Teddy would have backed away from without bothering her.  
  
Instead, he cleared his throat and said, "Granny?"  
  
She jumped, knocking her ink bottle over with her writing hand. "Teddy!" She cleaned up the spill with an absent-minded flick of her wand. "Teddy, what are you doing here? You're meant to be cavorting about America, aren't you?"  
  
"Saw the news. I reckoned you and Uncle Harry would be in the middle of it, and--"  
  
"And nothing! Get back there. This is your last free summer between school years. Starting next year, you'll just have to take holidays like the rest of us, and I won't have you breaking it off just because some maniac--"  
  
Teddy held up his hand. "I'm of age since April, Granny. It's my call."  
  
She made a frustrated face that was half exaggerated for comic effect, but half quite genuine. "Fine," she said.  
  
Teddy sat down at the table and looked at the pile of books. They weren't Granny's usual old historical tomes. She'd been working a third book of wizarding history, this one about the conflicts at the time of the founding of Hogwarts, and how the Founders had dealt with them, but now, she was reading fresh, shiny political books about the war with Voldemort. Teddy glanced at the scroll, where she was writing down nothing but names.  
  
He shook his head. "What were you fighting with Uncle Harry about? James said there was a fight."  
  
"Your godfather is going to commit political suicide if he doesn't make it perfectly plain that he's questioning every reasonable suspect. I told him I was going into the office with him to give my alibi where everyone could hear it and check, and he decided there was no need for it, and... Teddy, you don't even look a bit shocked."  
  
Teddy shrugged. "That's why I thought you'd be in the middle of it. Didn't Runcorn like to turn in Muggle-borns who were trying to pass?"  
  
She nodded. "And your granddad got caught along with one of them. My sister has kindly told me exactly what happened. I know quite a lot of dark magic, I have a temper, and God Himself will testify that I have more than enough motive. If the Aurors don't question me, it'll look terrible."  
  
"Do you, er... have an alibi?"  
  
"I was at Weird World with Ellsworth and the Sisters. They're enjoying their semi-retirement quite a lot, and there was a goodish crowd there who can verify my presence most of that night. And the security will show that I was in the same room all night."  
  
"And you told Uncle Harry that?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then he can check that without you going in."  
  
"It's not just checking. It's _being seen_ checking. Honestly, he has no idea how to manage the flow of information."  
  
"Do you want him to drag you in with a Binding Spell and force Veritaserum down your throat in front of Rita Skeeter?"  
  
She shrugged. "Couldn't hurt."  
  
Teddy rolled his eyes. "What are you doing now?" He pointed at the books.  
  
"Nothing of any use." She sighed. "I started out meaning to find a list of other suspects--people who'd have a grudge against Runcorn--but I just... I got carried away thinking of the people your grandfather was with that last year. What it must have been like. He could have come home. We shored up our defenses quite a lot--Dora and Remus and I--and it would have been safe. He should've come home." She tapped her quill on the scroll then rubbed her head. Her skin was looking thinner now, her hair threaded fully with white.  
  
Teddy stood and kissed her head.  
  
She hugged him. "You're a good boy, Teddy."  
  
He sat back down and took a few books of the pile. "So what can I do? Shall we solve the case while Uncle Harry's at work?"  
  
She laughed, then suddenly slapped her forehead. "There is something. Maddie came by this morning to ask if you were home yet."  
  
"Maddie?" Teddy put the books down. Maddie Apcarne was many things in his life--his mother's best friend, a friend's mother, a childhood babysitter--but for the past two years, her main role in his life had been preparing him for what he hoped would be a career in the Department of Mysteries. Presuming he got through the required N.E.W.T.s this year, he'd end up as her apprentice, She'd already made that assumption, and started sending him things she thought would interest him. He shook his head, baffled. "What does Maddie have to do with this?"  
  
"She didn't say, which means Department business," Granny said, with only a touch of bitterness. "I told her you were having a holiday, and she could bother you for esoteric theories when you got home. As you _are_ home--unless you mean to take my advice and go back to your holiday straightaway--I suppose you ought to contact her."  
  
"It's late. I'll stay and help you."  
  
Granny shook her head. "Help me do what? Write a paranoid list of potential enemies?" She pointed her wand at the parchment in front of her, and it burst into flames. "No--you're right, it's late. Let's stop this, and you just tell me about your trip, however little you had of it."  
  
Uncle Harry arrived about halfway through Teddy's narrative of his Animagus mishap, which required a little editing, as they all maintained the polite fiction that, as head Auror, he had no idea that his godson was performing illegal magic. James came in when he'd finished cleaning, and was promptly sent to bed, and after a while, Aunt Ginny came down as well. No one mentioned murder once Uncle Harry established that he didn't intend to bring the subject home with him.  
  
The next morning, Teddy accompanied him to the Ministry of Magic, bade him farewell at the lifts, and went down to the Department of Mysteries. He entered the circular antechamber, waited for it to start spinning, then called, "Universe!"  
  
The room stopped, and across from him, a single black door opened into a black room. Hanging in the air were seven glowing planets--Pluto had apparently been declared a non-planet (Maddie said that the Unspeakables kept taking it down and then deciding to put it back up again), and Uranus had been damaged in Uncle Harry's raid twenty years ago, and hadn't floated properly since. It could have been replaced, but, as the sculpture was more decorative than functional, no one had put up the gold.  
  
The offices of the Unspeakables in the Division were off to the side, through doors that blended into the wall, and were marked only by images of celestial events. Maddie's office was behind a quasar. Teddy went directly to it and knocked on the wall.  
  
The quasar glowed, flashing over Teddy's face, then the wall split open, and Teddy found himself in Maddie's comfortable office. It looked like her workspace at her home at Badger Hill--a tatty old carpet, several ancient play tables piled dangerously high with notebooks, an old sofa where more work was piled, and pictures drawn by her younger son, Mac--now nearly five--were scattered onto several surfaces. Her daughter Carny had got quite enamored of photography, and now worked for the _Hogwarts Charmer_ , so several pages from the newspaper were there as well, with Carny's pictures circled. In a large frame was a photograph from the _Daily Prophet_ , showing her husband Daffy and their son Frankie--Teddy's oldest friend--on the day they'd opened their new publishing house.   
  
Maddie herself was standing in the middle of this, not looking especially surprised to see Teddy. It was easy to tell it was early in the morning--her blond hair was still in a neat bun, and her robes looked crisp and clean. By midday, she'd have got comfortable.  
  
"Hi, Maddie," Teddy said. "Granny said you called, but I got in late last night."  
  
"If it had been urgent enough to call me at home, I'd have called you in America. Nice trip?"  
  
Teddy nodded. "What's going on? Is it about Runcorn?"  
  
"Sort of. Well, yes, but not officially. Officially, the Department isn't involved, but Ron Weasley had Ruth bring by a message that they found. The Aurors want to know if we have any thoughts on it."  
  
"And you're already asking me?"  
  
She laughed. "Yes, well. We have no one in Faith, and I know you're at least interested. We all agree that it's religious." She pulled out a bit of parchment and handed it to Teddy.  
  
He took it. In Ruthless Scrimgeour's all-business scribble were the words, "You can pass the justice of this world, but you cannot pass through the needle's eye."  
  
He looked up. "This is it exactly?"  
  
"Yes. Apparently, it was Charmed into a needle that was stuck in Runcorn's eye. It's scriptural. One of the gospels."  
  
"Matthew," Teddy said absently. "But I don't think we're talking about a religious person."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Well, it's used wrong. The camel _is_ supposed to make it through the needle's eye, at least more easily than a rich man. And Runcorn wasn't rich, anyway. The story isn't about revenge, either. It's more..." Teddy stopped, not sure how to go much further. He'd been studying religious texts with Père Alderman for a year, but he felt a bit uncomfortable with a theological exegesis. He shook his head. "It's not about this sort of thing at all, and a religious killer wouldn't use it that way. It's more of a cultural interpretation." He looked up sheepishly. "Well, that's my instinct, anyway. A hard-core religious fanatic would have chosen a different verse."  
  
Maddie looked at him skeptically. "Are you sure? We _are_ talking about a madman using scripture."  
  
"I don't know anything. Just... that's what I _think_. He might have said 'an eye for an eye' as well--especially with the needle where they found it--but those are just sort of familiar tropes that a lot of people know, and most of them don't think about. Did you know that the eye for an eye bit is actually about _not_ going overboard on revenge? It's..." He stopped and winced, hearing a certain panicked rambling come into his voice. "Sorry. I reckon the lot of you talked about all of this already. I doubt I have anything new to add."  
  
"No, it's something to think about." Maddie sat down on her sofa. "I imagine you wouldn't mind having a good excuse to go talk to Ruth, though, so you can tell them I've assigned you to look into it further. She has all the details." She smiled conspiratorially.


	3. Ruthless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Teddy gets drawn into the case through his Ministry contacts, he finds himself in the strange position of seeing his old school friends as adults, and his adults as peers.

The Auror Division was on full alert, and when Teddy exited the lift on the second level, he felt like he'd been caught in an Acceleration Enchantment. People were going about their normal business--carrying files to and fro, sending out owls and paper airplanes, jumping up to go investigate leads they'd found--but they all seemed to be moving just touch more quickly than seemed entirely normal. Teddy dodged Anthony Goldstein, who was running for the lifts, swung right around Dan Williams, and just missed running into Uncle Harry, who had his nose pressed close to a photograph as he strode toward someone else's desk.  
  
"Teddy!" he said. "I thought you were seeing Maddie."  
  
"She wanted me to talk to Ruthless."  
  
"Mm-hmm."  
  
"No, really, she did. Something about--"  
  
"Maddie's not officially on it, so as far as I'm concerned, you're trying to get Scrimgeour to leave the office long enough for"--he checked his watch. "I guess it's too early for lunch, but take her to breakfast. She's been at it for hours already."  
  
Teddy nodded. "That's exactly what I'm here for."  
  
"Good. She's in back. Apprentices don't get windows." He winked rather mechanically and went on his way.  
  
Teddy avoided any major collisions as he made his way to the back of the room, but he stopped before he reached the cube where he could see a tuft of wildly curly red hair puffing up over the wall. He could hear Ruthless already, though he couldn't make out what she was saying.  
  
He'd left the day before her apprenticeship started. He'd never visited her in an adult setting before, never actually been forced to think of their age difference. While he'd told himself over and over that she was working here now, a part of him still expected her to be on the Hogwarts Express, where they'd spend some time in a good-natured argument about whether or not they planned to go out in the coming months. Neither of them would end up right about it--they'd end up kissing a few times, then breaking up, then getting back together because everyone thought they were together anyway, then...  
  
He swallowed hard. Even if she _were_ back, she'd made it clear in April, after a birthday date had gone nastily wrong, that there'd be no more of that. But she was still his friend and--  
  
"Lupin?"  
  
He looked up, and realized he'd been standing still, thinking about this, for long enough to be noticed. Ruthless was apparently standing on her chair, as she was now looking over the wall, her eyebrows raised.  
  
"Hi," he said.  
  
"I don't suppose you're here to see me?"  
  
"Well, yes, actually." Teddy started around the corner. "I was going to ask you if you wanted to go to--" He stopped as he came to her cube, where breakfast was laid out on a small table, and a young-ish man was lounging in a Conjured chair. "Well, I was going to take you to breakfast, but apparently it's not necessary." He held out his hand to the man. "I'm Teddy Lupin."  
  
The man shook his outstretched hand. "Sam Cresswell. I feel like I know you already. Do you want to join us?"  
  
"Er... sure," Teddy said, and Conjured a chair of his own. He had no idea what he was meant to say, as Uncle Harry had pointed out that the Department of Mysteries' connection was unofficial, and he couldn't very well talk about personal things. "Are you... er... are you working on the murder?"  
  
Cresswell expanded a few items on the table, and shoved eggs and toast in Teddy's direction. "Can't really discuss it."  
  
"Yes, we can," Ruthless said. "Trust me, Teddy's not here by accident or without permission."  
  
"Hmph."  
  
"Sam's in a bad temper," Ruthless explained. "He doesn't know whether or not he wants to bring our psychopath in."  
  
"Oh, I want to bring him in," Cresswell said. "But I don't know if it's to send him to Azkaban or shake his hand." He chugged half a glass of pumpkin juice. "Don't mind me. I put myself at the top of the suspect list. Runcorn got my dad killed."  
  
"Oh, he was the one with--"  
  
"--with your granddad, right."  
  
"My grandmother wants to put herself at the top of the suspect list, too."  
  
"I imagine there's a lot of vying for the top spot. He made a hobby of betraying Muggle-borns." Cresswell stood up. "I'll let the pair of you catch up."  
  
"Thanks," Ruthless said absently.  
  
"Are we doing anything later?" he asked.  
  
"Er... I don't think so," she said, and looked guiltily in Teddy's direction.  
  
Teddy watched him go, then said, "New, er...?"  
  
"We've gone out a few times," Ruthless said briefly. "What do you really want to know?"  
  
"About him?"  
  
"Nothing to talk about there. About the case."  
  
Teddy floundered. He'd known Ruthless through what he thought were all of her various moods, but this Ruthless--curt and businesslike--was entirely new to him. She was only seven and a half months older than he was; if she'd been born a few hours later, she'd have been in his year at Hogwarts instead of the year before him. But now she seemed to inhabit an entirely different world. The gap that had never been there was there, and--  
  
She snapped her fingers and grinned. "Oy, Lupin. See something green?"  
  
"No," he said. "I just-- never mind."  
  
She tossed him an orange from the side of her plate. "Don't worry. I wake up in the morning and don't know me, either. I keep expecting your godfather to tell me it's time to stop playing at Aurors and Dark Wizards and get back to school where I belong." She laughed. "I was starting to re-stock my school supplies last week when I realized I wouldn't be needing them. They'll be sending me off to the Closed Ward any day now."  
  
"I guess... it'll seem normal enough soon."  
  
"It'll feel entirely normal when you start working downstairs next year. I've already started going about with Frankie and Bernice and Zach again. Frankie has a permanent game going in his offices, every Sunday night."  
  
"You're still playing Muggles and Minions?"  
  
"Yes, in the five weeks since I left school, I haven't yet given up my childhood vices. And now, we've recruited old Daff. He's a kindly old uni professor who secretly knows all about explosives. Very handy. Arthur Weasley's been making noises about wanting to join, too, so I think I probably won't be quitting because I've reached the advanced age of eighteen... almost." She took a bite of egg, then tapped her fork on the side of her plate. "Teddy, you didn't tell me--what do you really want to know?"  
  
"Oh. Right. Everything. The note, especially. Maddie says that the Department all thinks it's religious, but I'm not convinced. Can you tell me about the crime scene and the injuries?"  
  
Ruthless nodded, and pulled over a stack of photographs. They weren't easy to look at--the killer had left a lot of gruesome marks. The nailed-shut jaw was bad, but for Teddy, it was the slits across the eyes that would haunt him. And the wire through the ankles.  
  
"Well?" Ruthless asked.  
  
"I still think it's the wrong verse."  
  
"Just because he doesn't go to France to study esoteric interpretations of texts with a Latin-speaking werewolf priest, it doesn't mean that he's not inspired by the text. Maybe he's just not very bright."  
  
"It's possible, but I wouldn't... well, if you're using that to narrow down your subjects, I wouldn't. I think it's a lot less clear-cut than Maddie does."  
  
"Do you have _anything_ I could narrow it with?"  
  
"He's barking mad. Or she is. But it probably doesn't show much, or we'd know who it is already."  
  
"That's helpful, thank you." She rolled her eyes. "Personally, I think we should release a Death Eater as bait. Just have him walk around looking evil, see if anyone bites."  
  
"Er..."  
  
"I'm joking, Lupin. Remember, ha-ha, mad Ruthless who goes after everything with her Beater's Bat?"  
  
"Oh. Sorry."  
  
She reached across the table and shoved him gently. "Teddy, I'm dressed in red and I'm tired, but it's still me. You know I couldn't do that. I had to leave my bat at Hogwarts. It's school property."  
  
Teddy laughed. "Well, now I know what to get you for your birthday, anyway."  
  
"I knew you'd pick up that hint."  
  
"Scrimgeour!"  
  
She stood up. "What is it, Weasley?"  
  
"Pack up, we're interviewing a hag in Broadstairs." Ron came over. "Hi, Teddy. We've got to go."  
  
"I'll take care of clean-up," Teddy offered.  
  
Ruthless bit her lip. "Er... I can't actually leave you here with my files."  
  
"Oh. Right. I'll... I'll let myself out then."  
  
He gave them a wave as he went. Before he got to the lifts, they'd Apparated out.  
  
The lift had to prompt him to give it a direction this time, as he couldn't think where he was meant to go. Finally, he just had it take him to the lobby, where he waved to the receptionist, Romilda Davies, and left the Ministry.  
  
It was still early.

He entertained himself for an hour or so in a Muggle book shop. At noon, he stood for a long time in front of a nearby cinema, considering the various titles. There were six--something with an explosion on the poster and no text except the title ( _Smashup_ ), two that seemed to be about nearly identical teenage girls who looked anxious about something that probably had to do with the boys shown lurking behind them, something for children that featured an anthropomorphic flower grinning in a field, a hazy picture that was covered with commentary from reviewers, and a funny romance called _Tiger By The Tail_ , which apparently had a zoo tiger playing matchmaker to a ferny looking woman in blue jeans and a stuffy businessman who, in fact, was holding its tail. Teddy decided it was probably more amusing to make up plots for the posters than the films themselves would be, so he moved on after a while. He thought of calling Jane Hunter, a Muggle-born girl he'd gone out with for a few weeks last year, later, to see if she'd like to see the one with the tiger--it looked like a prime example of what she called a "SID," a snog-in-the-dark story--but decided against it.  
  
Instead, he took a bus to Charing Cross Road and went to Diagon Alley. Most of the shops were doing a lazy summer business. George Weasley had set up a hovering raincloud outside his shop, and children were running around in their bathing clothes. The Willow, a restaurant owned by the parents of Teddy's friend Tinny, looked crowded enough through the window. Teddy went on by.  
  
He stopped at the mouth of Knockturn Alley, which was marked with Aurors' flares that kept passers-by from seeing, or disturbing, the crime scene. Curiously, he passed through the field. He didn't notice any sensation in particular. He didn't have any clearance to remove them, and didn't know how to see through them, so he spread his hands out over the bricks, trying to get a sense of any spells other than the flares that had been done here. It had hardly been a clean area to start with, though, so he couldn't isolate any particular--  
  
"You'll come back here and listen to me, Burke!"  
  
"I've listened enough!"  
  
Footsteps clacked up along the stones, and Teddy started to raise his hand to Henry Burke, Maurice's father. He lowered it when he saw that Mr. Burke had his head lowered belligerently, and was being followed by Mr. Borgin. Maurice's great-grandfather, Caractacus Burke, had left the greater part of his interest in Borgin and Burke's to his first son, Maurice's great-uncle, who had passed it to his own daughter. She spent most of her time abroad, as Teddy understood it, looking for new merchandise. There was no particular reason that Borgin would be arguing with Henry.  
  
Teddy did a Disillusioning spell on himself and stood tight against the wall.  
  
Borgin caught up with Mr. Burke and spun him around. "You bloody well haven't. D'you think this is a plaything? D'you think it doesn't have ways of protecting itself? Even the Aurors know that. Why do you think they let me stay in business? We can't let it out of family hands, and I don't have any family."  
  
"That is in no manner my fault," Mr. Burke said, trying to pull away. "Nor am I responsible for my cousin failing to produce an heir before her death. I have no interest in the shop."  
  
"Yes, you do. In fact, you have twenty percent interest in the shop. That you haven't decided to touch that gold and are living in a flat over a used fingernail shop is, as you put it, in no manner my fault."  
  
"You can have my twenty percent. Just get me out of your damned will. I don't want the other eighty."  
  
"You're not listening! I _can't_. You're all that's left."  
  
Mr. Burke spun on Borgin and pushed him into the wall across from Teddy. "That bloody shop," he spat, "nearly killed my boy Wendell. I don't want it and I won't have it." He let go, shoving himself away from Borgin, and strode out of Knockturn Alley.  
  
Borgin straightened his robes, wrinkled his nose, and said, "Well, there are ways around _that_." He turned and went back into Knockturn Alley.  
  
Teddy broke the Disillusioning Charm and frowned. Maurice hadn't mentioned his cousin dying. He'd briefly mentioned that his brother Wendell was always ill--that was why Wendell hadn't come to Hogwarts two years ago--but he hadn't said anything about Wendell nearly being killed by something in the shop, and he hated the shop like poison, so he wasn't likely to cover for it.  
  
He'd have to tell Uncle Harry or Ruthless about this later. He didn't think that the Burkes would run into trouble over it, but Borgin... for all Teddy knew, Borgin had strung Runcorn up across the alley--right under Maurice's family's flat, actually--as some kind of warning.  
  
Shaking his head, he stepped back out into the sunlight of Diagon Alley, and walked past three buildings to the brand new offices of Charmpress, the Apcarnes' publishing house. Through the window, he could see Frankie himself, sitting at a desk looking through...  
  
Muggles and Minions books.  
  
Teddy rolled his eyes and went in.  
  
"Busy day?"  
  
Frankie grinned. "Not especially. We had everything planned except the possibility of not getting enough manuscripts that we could actually sell. A few dozen completely unpublishable ones, of course, but there's no point investing the gold in publishing things we won't be able to sell to anyone. I don't suppose you have one of your cat stories handy... I could start a children's imprint here and now."  
  
"Yes, that would look good. Publishing your friend and turning down strangers."  
  
"My friend knows a subject from a predicate."  
  
Teddy shrugged. "I'll see what I can come up with under a pseudonym. No sense giving the wrong impression. Besides, James might want to write one. The cat stories are really his, you know."  
  
"I have enough people in my slush-pile who write like ten-year-olds," Frankie said.  
  
A door in back opened, and a small girl with dark brown hair came into the office. Tinny Gudgeon was never going to be a great beauty, but there was no single feature about her that stood out as unpleasant, either. Plus, she was smart and funny and had been one of the first people Teddy had made friends with in his year. He liked her a great deal. She waved to him. "I thought I heard you. Aren't you meant to be--?"  
  
"--riding in a rodeo while chasing jackalopes around New York City?"  
  
"Something like that."  
  
"I heard about the murder and came back."  
  
Thankfully, neither Tinny nor Frankie questioned this at all. Tinny just sat down on the arm of Frankie's chair (he put his arm around her waist) and said, "Has Frankie got to you about the cat stories yet?"  
  
"You planned this?"  
  
"I'm desperate for something big," Frankie said. "And I've been on about those stories for two years now. I really need your help, Lupin."  
  
"You really count on me having a lot of Hufflepuff in me, don't you?"  
  
Frankie nodded. Teddy rolled his eyes.  
  
Tinny grabbed a few Muggles and Minions books and started flipping through the top one. "We're going to coordinate games this year," she said. "Do you want to come to the Friday night games in August? I can work Wings into the story. And then we'll have the same arc going all year, and Frankie and I will write back and forth about what's going on in two fronts of a war, and when we finish school, we'll be all set to join."  
  
Teddy nodded absently and took a seat. "Have the pair of you heard anything about Borgin and Burke's?"  
  
Tinny gave him a blank stare, and Frankie shook his head. "No--why?"  
  
Teddy told them briefly about the argument, not including any theorizing about the murder and framing it in terms of concern for Maurice, who they both liked a lot.  
  
"Sounds iffy to me," Tinny said.  
  
"Wendell came in here last year," Frankie said. "I think he was bored. He was with the cousin. They both looked quite ill, but that's all I can add."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"I wonder what he means about the shop defending itself," Tinny mused. "Would it explode and take all of Diagon Alley with it or something?"  
  
"No idea," Teddy said. He sighed. "I'll ask Maurice."  
  
"You're going to tell Burke that you eavesdropped on his father while you were Disillusioned?" Tinny asked, and feigned being deeply impressed. "No wonder you're a Gryffindor. That'll take a good bit of the famed bravery."  
  
Teddy conceded her point, then steered the conversation away, and into the realm of finding a name that he could put on one of the cat adventure stories that he'd always written for James. They came up with a handful of them, but Teddy didn't want to choose one without James's approval, as the stories were his as well. After tea, he let them get back to work (a post owl had brought a manuscript which had made Frankie wince theatrically as soon as he saw the author's name) and decided that, if he wanted to find out about dark spells in Knockturn Alley, Granny would be as good to ask as anyone. He took a chance that she'd be back at their own home, and in fact could see a candle on the kitchen table as he walked in from the Apparition point.  
  
"Granny?" he called. "I was wondering about--"  
  
He stopped.  
  
Granny was home... but she had set out what looked like an extensive tea, and was laughing brightly at something one of her guests had said.  
  
Sitting on the other three sides of Granny's table were Narcissa, Lucius, and Draco Malfoy.

Teddy stopped at the parlor door. Granny must have noticed Narcissa Malfoy looking at him, because she looked over her shoulder and said, "Oh, Teddy! I wasn't expecting you home so soon." She expanded the table beside her (at the furthest point from Lucius, Teddy noticed), and indicated that he should sit down. As he did, she said, "It's been a long time since you've seen my sister--maybe some re-introductions are in order. This is my grandson, Teddy Lupin. Teddy, this is my sister, Narcissa, and her husband Lucius, and their son Draco."  
  
"Oh, Teddy and I have met," Draco said, extending his hand.  
  
Teddy shook it warily. They'd certainly met.  Malfoy had lectured in Defense Against the Dark Arts nearly two years ago, and he'd told Teddy's entire class--of Slytherins--that Teddy himself was the student he'd think most susceptible to becoming evil, because he was easiest to manipulate. As Teddy had been arguing with Uncle Harry at the time, he'd thought for a moment that Uncle Harry had specifically called Malfoy in to denounce him (which he realized within moments was ridiculous). After class, Draco had called Teddy a little snot, and tell him that he came every year, and that Teddy was clearly feeling guilty if he thought the whole business was directed at him.  
  
"He's certainly grown into a handsome young man," Narcissa told Granny.  
  
"Yes," Granny said cheerfully. "I've had to chase away the girls with a broomstick." Teddy looked at her steadily, and, to her credit, she backed away from this particular line of commentary. She patted his wrist. "Narcissa has been ill," she said. "I discharged her from St. Mungo's this afternoon, and we decided to have tea."  
  
"I read about the pirate gold you helped find," Draco said. "That must help a bit."  
  
"I'm certainly not arguing with it," Teddy said, not taking the bait about his financial situation. In April, after his birthday, he'd got a statement from Gringotts that he was relatively certain was in error, but he hadn't had a chance ask anyone about it before he'd left. He turned to Lucius, who hadn't yet greeted him. He was met with an icy, distant stare that apparently didn't account for his presence.  
  
Narcissa noticed this. "Lucius," she said softly, "say hello to Andromeda's grandson."  
  
He smiled mechanically, did not extend his hand, and said, "Hello. The werewolf's son, aren't you?"  
  
"And the Mudblood's grandson," Teddy replied coolly. "On both sides, actually."  
  
"Teddy," Granny said in a low, warning tone.  
  
If Lucius took offense to the implied rebuke, he didn't show it. He started muttering to himself. Draco handed him a cup of tea, which quieted him so quickly that Teddy suspected a potion.  
  
"Please excuse my husband," Narcissa said. "He's not himself."  
  
Granny raised her eyebrows, but didn't point out that being himself would hardly be an improvement for Lucius Malfoy.  
  
"I understand you've been in America this summer," Draco said. "Did you hear anything about those madmen who want to repeal the Statute of Secrecy?"  
  
"Not really, no. We were mainly doing music shows. A few mad girls trying to steal my friend Donzo's pants, but no political madmen."  
  
"I take it you've heard of our own political madman." Narcissa took a biscuit, but didn't eat it. "The murder in Knockturn Alley."  
  
"Yes," Teddy said. He took a scone. It occurred to him that the Malfoys might be more likely than anyone either than Mr. Borgin or the Burkes to know about the shop, but he didn't want to mention anything about the conversation to them. He nibbled the scone, thinking, then said, "I happened by the scene today."  
  
Narcissa looked up, surprised. "Surely, the Aurors have put up flares to hide it!"  
  
"Yes. Nothing to see. But I did hear an odd rumor. Something about Borgin and Burke's, and curses if Mr. Borgin died and didn't leave it in one of their families."  
  
Draco laughed. "And you think, as long as you have a pair of Death Eaters and an accomplice at the table, you'll ask about Borgin and Burke's. Very smooth."  
  
"Well... do you know anything?"  
  
"Teddy!" Granny said.  
  
"No, it's quite all right," Draco said. "Teddy's well aware that I like to make myself useful. Unfortunately, I don't know anything specific for him to pass on to Potter. Though I'll keep this in mind as a less awkward conduit for such things in the future."  
  
"Do you know anything _not_ specific?"  
  
"Why does it matter to you?"  
  
"Curiosity."  
  
"Hmm." Draco stirred his tea, then set down his cup without drinking. "That's right. I heard rumors myself. Something about the Department of Mysteries. I suppose it's a legitimate study. Very well. I can't speak to Borgin and Burke's situation exactly, but I'll say that it's not easy to get a business going in a part of town not exactly known for being frequented by the honest and upstanding. Most of the long-standing shops there took aggressive steps to avoid being taken over--curses on the property that will repel any other owners, self-immolating merchandise, that sort of thing. A blood spell tying a business to a particular family wouldn't be entirely out of the question."  
  
Granny leaned forward, interested despite herself. "Really? Anything like the ones on... various houses, say?"  
  
"Mad Auntie's curses?" Narcissa asked, and they grinned at each other. "Mad Auntie" was the name they called Walburga Black, Sirius's mother, who had cursed the house Uncle Harry now lived in six ways to Tuesday to keep it in the hands of heirs--little had she guessed that her son's heir would be head of the Auror Division.  
  
"It can't be entirely repellent," Draco said. "It would be bad for business if customers were turned away at the door. But the same principle you might use on a house. If possession changed, any number of things could happen. And given what sorts of things can be found in that particular shop, I wouldn't rule any of them out."  
  
No one said anything for a moment, then Narcissa smiled wanly and said, "Well, as fascinating as this is"--she smiled in such a way that no one at the table imagined it meant anything other than "Stop this immediately"--"I'd very much like to hear about Teddy's trip. I've never actually been to America--"  
  
"No loss," Lucius muttered, and was fed another cup of tea.  
  
"--and I'd love to hear about anything other than political madmen. Is it true that in New York City, there's a shop with magic from every nation on earth?"  
  
"Yes," Teddy said. "My friend Corky went and tried to stump them, but they kept finding things, even when he wasn't asking for proper countries. He walked out with a charmed doll from the Principality of Outer Baldonia. Which is funny, since that's actually in Canada to begin with..."  
  
Narcissa skillfully steered the conversation--Teddy was shocked and a little disturbed to discover that she was quite a lot like Granny--and by the time the shadows had got long outside, they were talking like any normal family about the trip the Malfoys had recently taken to Johannesburg.  
  
Granny checked her watch. "Oh, dear," she said. "We've nearly talked our way to supper time."  
  
Narcissa stood up and indicated to Draco to do the same. He nudged Lucius up. "We should talk more often, Andromeda. I mean that."  
  
Granny kissed her cheek. "We should. And remember, if you see the slightest sign of fading--"  
  
"--get back to St. Mungo's immediately," Narcissa said. "I will."  
  
"Good. Because I'm not willing to outlive my baby sister." Granny Summoned their cloaks. "I'd ask you to stay, but Ginny and Harry are coming for supper and--"  
  
"--and I think we'd all like to avoid _that_ awkwardness," Narcissa said. "No one more so than young Harry, I'd think."  
  
No one argued with this, though it occurred to Teddy that the Malfoys might actually find it more uncomfortable than Uncle Harry would. They left, Narcissa and Draco leading Lucius to the Apparition point, and Teddy looked at Granny. "What was _that_ about?" he asked.  
  
Granny took a deep breath and went back to the parlor to start cleaning up. "What I said, Teddy. Cissy was ill. She's been having fading fits, and when Draco found her collapsed on a couch he could see right through her, he brought her in, against her protests. I've been seeing to her for a week. When she was well enough to leave, I..." She sighed. "Cissy's been trying to make amends to me for years, and I never really let her. But when I saw her fading, I just... well, I meant what I told her. I've outlived enough people I love. And I do love Cissy. To my surprise, I quite like Draco as well. I'd only met him once before--well, twice, I suppose; he dropped by with a bizarre request to babysit once, and I threw him out--but only once at any length, when his little boy had a magical accident I had to take care of."  
  
"I was surprised you let her husband in the house."  
  
"I'd have rather not," Granny admitted. "But in case you didn't notice, Lucius isn't well. They don't leave him alone."  
  
"I thought he was just being rude."  
  
"No, Teddy, that was you, and don't think I didn't notice. But you're a grown man, so I suppose I can't put you on kitchen duty for it."  
  
"I'll clean up," Teddy told her, and started gathering the dishes magically.  
  
Granny looked out the window. "I remember Lucius when he was terrifying," she said. "But ever since Voldemort took his wand, then took over his house, he hasn't been right in the head. He's in a fog. Cissy leads him around and keeps him from doing any damage to himself or anything else. It's a cruel fate for a man who was, if nothing else, rather brilliant." She wrinkled her nose. "It's nearly enough. I just wish he were aware of just how bad it is."  
  
With that, she shook off her mood and helped Teddy clean up. By the time they finished, Uncle Harry, Aunt Ginny, and the children had arrived, and within minutes, the greatest calamity in the world was the gross injustice James had suffered by being born after the first of September.


	4. An Accounting Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before school starts, Teddy has to come face to face with an unanticipated intrusion in his life: Wealth.

After a week, Teddy was thoroughly sick of being asked why he'd cut his holiday short. His explanation seemed to amuse people he wasn't particularly close to--there was Teddy Lupin, barely of age, thinking himself indispensable in matters he had nothing to do with. Ultimately, he toned it down for them, saying he'd got ill on a bad jalapeño, and he left it at that.  
  
Maddie seemed glad to have him back, and had arranged with her boss, Mr. Croaker, to let him assist her as long as he was here, which gave him something to fill his days, even if it _was_ largely filing and doing Duplication charms. He resumed his travels to France to study with Père Alderman as well, and joined Frankie and Tinny's Muggles and Minions game on Friday nights.   
  
Frankie pushed him for a cat story again. In a moment of inspiration, he went to James and asked for help with a plot. James immediately stopped moping about his late birthday and started to generate plot after plot. He didn't even complain about letting Teddy do the actual writing--"This is for a _real_ book!" Between them over the next two weeks, they built up a short story about James's cat, Martian, accidentally losing a charm that had been concealed on his collar, and his adventures as he went on a quest to find it.  Teddy was grateful for the time with James, whose flights of fancy were growing, rather than receding, as he entered adolescence.

They tested the story on Lily, who declared it simply horrible, and asked when they would finish the next one. After quite a lot of outlandish suggestions, they settled on a shared name of "Jim Wolf" for the credit. Frankie accepted it as soon as he got it, paid them a small advance, and made a handful of suggestions that both Teddy and James agreed were improvements. It entered the slow process of becoming a book and quickly left Teddy's mind, except when James brought it up.  
  
The week before school started, the whole family (and sundry others) gathered at Bill and Fleur Weasley's home, Shell Cottage, for a picnic. Teddy had always been the oldest child in the family--Victoire Weasley, who was fifteen, was next--but the older he'd got, the more he'd become the youngest adult. George Weasley and Lee Jordan had treated him as such for years, introducing him to poker games (which he enjoyed) and pipes (which he emphatically did not) at their respective shops. Hermione had been next, talking to him about books and his extracurricular studies, and Ron had followed closely behind (now that he was Ruthless's mentor, he seemed almost a colleague). Minerva McGonagall didn't precisely treat anyone as a peer, but Teddy had noticed of late that she didn't address him terribly differently than she addressed Uncle Harry or, for that matter, Kingsley Shacklebolt.  
  
This really ought to have made gatherings more inclusive, letting Teddy converse with nearly everyone on an even footing, but instead, he felt at home nowhere at all. He caught the edges of adult conversations, but had neither the experience nor the prior knowledge to join them, and the children's conversations were becoming alien to him. Victoire was someone he could generally talk to (except when she was wearing blue, which made her so beautiful that he nearly forgot they were all but related and she was quite irritating besides), but today, she was playing with the younger cousins, pushing them on the old tree swing on the sea cliff. He watched her for a while, enjoying the sunlight in her hair, but ultimately chided himself for this pointless activity and went inside to see if Fleur needed any help.  
  
Instead, he found Uncle Harry and Bill sitting in the living room, looking over several scrolls.  
  
"Teddy!" Bill called. "Come in."  
  
Hesitantly, Teddy entered. "What is it?"  
  
Uncle Harry put down the scroll he currently had in his hand and said, "Bill and I were talking about Borgin and Burke's--what you told me you overheard."  
  
"Oh!" Teddy pulled up a chair. "Do you think it's... you know, part of the murder?"  
  
"No idea," Uncle Harry said. "We still don't have any leads as to what the murder was about. But it's interesting in itself. Borgin told me as much, after the war, but we were busy, and no one particularly bothered with the shop, and it slipped my mind. When you brought it up again, I asked Bill. He knows quite a lot about cursed artifacts."  
  
Bill nodded sideways, an expression that the family had learned to interpret as a smile (the horrible scars on his face, courtesy of Greyback, made normal expressions difficult). "It's helpful at Gringotts, and you should have seen some of the treasures I found back in my treasure-hunting days. Hexed up from every direction."  
  
"So you could break them?" Teddy asked.  
  
"If necessary," Bill said. "If I knew what they were. They could do a lot of damage in a populated area like that before I figured out the counter-curses, though. And of course, I'd have no legal right while an heir was present."  
  
"Maurice and his dad would let you," Teddy said.  
  
Uncle Harry frowned. "I'm not as sure of that as you are. The Burkes lost quite a lot this year in the shop's interest--"  
  
"Mr. Burke said it almost killed Wendell."  
  
"I'll leave that to Maurice to explain or not to you. It's not my place. But Mr. Burke's cousin, Veradisia, did die from a cursed object. I'm surprised that the _Prophet_ hasn't picked that up. Rita's slipping in her old age."  
  
Teddy bit his lip. "So, er... you said you don't know what the murder is about. So there's no--well, I'd heard--"  
  
"There are theories coming from other departments," Uncle Harry said. "But a source I trust is skeptical of those theories, and therefore, so am I."  
  
Teddy felt himself blanch. Was Uncle Harry ignoring the whole Department of Mysteries just because of something _he'd_ said? "Er... I hope you're... er, not blocking anything out just because--"  
  
"The source in question is a skeptic, and, at least as I understand it, just said to not narrow anything down. He's quite a brilliant source."  
  
Bill gave a snort of laughter. "Harry, do you really think the entire wizarding world doesn't _assume_ you've asked the Department of Mysteries for theories?"  
  
Uncle Harry shrugged.  
  
Teddy sighed. "Well, it turns out that I apparently didn't give you _any_ useful information about the murder anyway."  
  
"Mm." Uncle Harry cleaned his glasses. "Well, Teddy, welcome to a very large group of people who haven't come up with any useful information about that. And oddly, you weren't expected to." He smiled.  
  
"I suppose not. I guess I did cut my trip short for no reason."  
  
"Andromeda's been glad to have you back," Uncle Harry said.  
  
"She keeps trying to push me out the door!"  
  
"She feels guilty about it," Bill said.   
  
Uncle Harry looked shrewdly at Teddy, then said, "You know how glad she is to have you. That's really why you came back, isn't it?"  
  
"Well... yes. I knew Runcorn turned in Cresswell, and he was the one the Snatchers were chasing when they caught Granddad, and--"  
  
"--and you knew she'd be reliving all of it again."  
  
Teddy nodded. "She's doing really well, though. She doesn't need me, not really."  
  
"Trust me, Teddy. She does."  
  
Bill closed up a scroll with a flick of his wand and said, "On an entirely different subject, I opened the account you asked me to. One Jim Wolf now has a Gringotts vault. Just a little one."  
  
"A fine, upstanding citizen," Uncle Harry said. "I always liked him."  
  
"I'll have two keys made, one for each of... him. Did you want to put any of your other assets into that account, for, shall we say, diversification?"  
  
"I don't know. I'll see what's left after I get started after school--I'll need a flat, and some work clothes..." Teddy stopped, noting the way Uncle Harry and Bill were looking at him. "What?"  
  
Bill spoke slowly. "Teddy... did you even read the statement I gave you in April?"  
  
"Yes, I've been meaning to ask you about that. I think I need another one. There's some kind of accounting error on this one."  
  
The corners of Bill's mouth twitched. "What sort of error do you think there was?"  
  
"Well," Teddy started, noticing that both men were looking irritatingly amused. He ground his teeth. "I know there was a good amount in the Brimmann wreck, but it was nowhere _near_ that much. I think it must have got... I don't know. Maybe something there duplicated, and someone counted it on a bad day, and--"  
  
"The accounting is magical, and it utterly ignores Duplicates," Bill said.  
  
"Well _something's_ wrong with it. I don't--well, that's to say..." Teddy looked back and forth between them. "Did _you_ read it? It's absurd!"  
  
Uncle Harry laughed fondly, then said, "Teddy, there's no error. It's all yours."

Teddy tried to say something, but nothing came out. The amount of gold on the statement he'd seen in April had been staggering, numbers that he couldn't even wrap his mind around. He shook his head.  
  
Bill waved his wand, and a rolled scroll appeared. "Here, I'll show you," he said. He moved closer to Teddy and unrolled it. "Here"--he pointed to a large sum that had appeared at the beginning of last summer--"is the gold from the Brimmann wreck. It's quite a good chunk, actually, especially once it starts earning interest."  
  
"Interest...?"  
  
"Gold makes gold," Bill said. "That's why there's so much from the rest. Your allowance has only been skimming the tiniest bit of the interest, and your grandmother has paid all of your school expenses from her own vault. And before you try to push any back, she's hardly destitute at the end of it, and I want you to try and imagine her face if you even suggested it."  
  
Teddy blinked. "Right. Er... What _is_ the rest?"  
  
"Well, it's four things. The first is"--he pointed to a very large amount, but Uncle Harry held up his hand.  
  
"Let's save that for last. I'll explain it."  
  
Bill nodded. "All right. The second bit, here, that's from your Mum. When the Ministry changed hands, Kingsley saw to it that the Aurors who lost their lives fighting for the Order of the Phoenix got a full death benefit. She got hers, and as it turns out, she was also Mad-Eye Moody's heir. He didn't really have anyone closer. I don't think she even knew that, as his will wasn't found until after the war."  
  
Teddy blinked at this number. "Blood money."  
  
"No," Uncle Harry said. "It's something that we all have arranged, to make sure our families aren't left without support."  
  
"Still..."  
  
"The _next_ bit," Bill said firmly, steering him away, "comes from your father."  
  
"Dad didn't have any money!"  
  
"Not while he was alive. But he sold Fred and George several Charms during the last year of his life--"  
  
"I've been getting those royalties all along, it can't be that much--"  
  
"You've been getting an allowance from them. But the original sales still stand, and George paid off the balance of what he owed, as well as the royalties for years. So that's from your dad."  
  
Teddy could hear his own breath. If Dad had lived, he wouldn't have been poor anymore. It wasn't enough to be rich--it was the smallest of the numbers--but he wouldn't have had to wear patched robes and live in squalor, either.  
  
"This most recent one," Bill said, "is one your grandmother discovered when she was going through old Ted's things. She changed it to wizard gold, but it was Muggle money at first. He was, shall we say, a very good guesser about the future. And he bought a lot of stock in companies that he--guessed--would do well."  
  
Teddy didn't say anything to this. Using Divination for that sort of thing--which Granddad had obviously done--was frowned upon, but difficult to prove, and--  
  
"He was well aware of what he was doing," Bill said. "And I helped him. It was to hide his assets. He wrote a Muggle will whilst on the run, and left all of his accounts to his daughter Nymphadora or her heirs. It never occurred to me that it had got quite that successful."  
  
"Which brings us to the first deposit," Uncle Harry said. "That's your share of Sirius's gold. And your vault is actually his, that's why that was the first deposit and the others were just moved there."  
  
"But he left his gold--and everything!--to you!"  
  
Uncle Harry sighed. "Come for a walk. This isn't just about the gold."  
  
"I'll help Fleur finish up," Bill said, and Vanished the scroll they'd been looking at. He went to the kitchen.  
  
Uncle Harry led Teddy outside. They passed a vegetable patch where Laurel Shacklebolt and Lily Potter were building a tower of trellises, and a windswept hill where the youngest boys were having a race. They rounded a curve in the cliff, and Uncle Harry Conjured a pair of chairs for them, looking out over the sea.  
  
Teddy sat down with some trepidation. The last time Uncle Harry had called him out for a walk to talk about the dead, they'd had a screaming row that had ended with some nasty name calling, and several months of quarantine at Hogwarts after Teddy had let out a plague in a fit of rage. "What?" he asked. "What is it?"  
  
"It's something I argued with Andromeda about," Uncle Harry said. "She said you were comfortable enough as it was, and the Black gold was tainted. I think she's changed her mind about the family since, but the wound was still fresh then, and after I did this--she was a bit cool to me. We haven't really talked about it since."  
  
"Why?" Teddy asked. He thought again about the number. "I'll give it back, really, obviously, I don't need it. It's... it's more than I can use, and James and Al and Lily--"  
  
"Are also quite comfortable," Uncle Harry said. He shook his head. "It wasn't about what you'd need. It was never about that."  
  
"What, then?"  
  
Uncle Harry was quiet for a long time, then said, "I was an insane choice for godfather."  
  
"What? No, you're--"  
  
"I was seventeen. I doubt they were thinking of me as a guardian--you were left in Andromeda's care for a reason." He smiled faintly. "But they did choose me. I think your dad did it because I knocked him in the head with some basic facts."  
  
"I know that story."  
  
"Yes, you do. But I also know that, if Sirius had been alive, he'd have been the one doing that all along. It probably wouldn't have got as far as it did if Sirius had been there to laugh in your father's face about his insecurities. The more I found out about them, the more I realized--if Sirius had lived, he'd have been your godfather, just like he was mine. I don't doubt that at all. And he would have loved you, and seen to your needs as much as he could, just like he did for me."  
  
"But he _didn't_ know me."  
  
"Which left me in the position of trying to guess what he would have done. And what I guessed was that he wouldn't have played favorites. So I split the inheritance. I had the house already--we needed it for the war, and I'd got to like it--and the things in the house. I guessed how much that was worth, then, figuring that into the inheritance, split the number I got. I took a bit of the gold, but most of it is yours. I started to tell you that when I used it to buy the Shrieking Shack--"  
  
"You said that it was going to be mine by the time I came of age, not that it already was, and I thought you spent it on the house..."  
  
"On the Shrieking Shack? That... well, it wasn't a terribly expensive property, and the taxes on the lot aren't very high. It didn't make much of a dent."  
  
Teddy felt his face get hot. Not much of a dent. His parents had wept over that house, been unable to keep Gringotts--under the control of unforgiving Death Eaters--from seizing it, had even destroyed all the work they'd put into it so that the Death Eaters wouldn't benefit from it... and all along, it was just a drop in the bucket for someone else's fortune.  
  
For _Teddy's_ fortune.  
  
"If Dad had had it then..."  
  
"I had no idea how much was in there. And he wouldn't have taken it from me--or from Sirius--which is another reason I gave it to you when you were a year old, before you could protest." Uncle Harry looked out over the ocean. "They'd have found reasons to take the Shrieking Shack anyway. Within a few months, they made it illegal for werewolves to own property, except by special dispensation from the Ministry--which, at the time, was Voldemort."  
  
"So you don't think Dad would have taken it, and you think I will."  
  
"It wasn't about what Remus would have taken," Uncle Harry said. "It was my best guess at what Sirius would have wanted done with his estate."  
  
"Were you right?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Did you ask the portrait?"  
  
Uncle Harry blinked, then laughed. "I never even thought of it. I made the call a long time ago, and I didn't really think of it until you came of age."  
  
"You didn't use the--?" Teddy pointed to a round scar on his palm that had been cut there by the edges of the Resurrection Stone during his first year.  
  
"No, Teddy, I didn't. I trusted my memory. Not that I wasn't sorely tempted."  
  
"You?"  
  
"Me. Why do you think I don't trust it?" He thought for a while. "What do you think? Do you think it's what Sirius would have done? You've spent time with him in your dreams, and in your dad's ring. What do you think?"  
  
He thought about Sirius--not just the times he seemed to appear in Teddy's dreams, or about the portrait, or about Dad's memories, but about the Apparition that had appeared to him in the forest when Uncle Harry had--against his deepest instincts--allowed Teddy to use the Resurrection Stone. He'd stepped aside to let Teddy say goodbye to his parents, but last words he'd said were, "As the one of us without any of his own children, I'm just glad someone remembers me."  
  
He nodded. "It's what he would have done. But it's so _much_. What do I do with it?"  
  
"That's not up to me to answer, Teddy," Uncle Harry said. "But I believe that, when the time comes, you'll know."

* * *

Three days later, Teddy Apparated to France for his last meeting with Père Alderman before school. At first, the sessions had been more or less standard catechism lessons, but Teddy had mastered all of it easily, and at the moment, they were discussing the arguments among the mendicant orders. Alderman noticed Teddy squirming as they talked about living in poverty and depending on charity, and the entire conversation shifted to what he was meant to do with his gold--probably the most practical conversation he'd ever had with Alderman.  
  
"You could make a gift of some of it," the priest said. "And I'm happy to pass along the information that, should you feel moved to do something about it, our steeple needs repairs."  
  
"Done. Call Blondin."  
  
"Thank you. But Teddy... hold onto most of it. Something like that held in reserve--I can't explain it, but I think there's a reason it's come to you. I think there may be a need for it someday."  
  
"What if I want to become a Franciscan monk?"  
  
Alderman snorted. "I think it's safe to say that you have no interest whatsoever in becoming any sort of monk, Teddy."  
  
They talked briefly about the possibility of finishing Teddy's studies this summer--he would eventually be Confirmed, and there would be Confession and Communion--but ultimately, Teddy decided to put it off until after school was over. Alderman thought this a good idea, but asked Teddy to keep writing to him.  
  
"So you can make sure I don't forget my catechism?"  
  
"Because disappointingly few people want to talk to me about how many angels can dance on the head of a pin."  
  
Teddy gathered his things and went home. Granny was out with Ellsworth Wintringham, so only his cat, Checkmate, was there to greet him. He scooped her up and let her lick his face for a while while he carried her into the parlor and lit the gas lamps with a flick of his wand.  
  
"Wotcher, Teddy."  
  
He grinned at the portrait that was propped on an easel in the corner, waiting to be packed for school. Granny had moved it for tea the other day--probably didn't want Lucius's commentary--but now she'd put it back in its summer location. "Hi, Mum," he said.  
  
She stopped stirring the cauldron of Wolfsbane Potion that would never come to maturity and came forward to lean against the edge of the frame. "You've hardly been home."  
  
"Sorry. I, er..."  
  
She laughed. "It's all right. Young men have things to do. Please tell me they involve a girl."  
  
"Sorry again. Visiting Alderman."  
  
"Oh, well. Back to school in a few days, then we'll see. Unless you've patched things up with Ruth? I do like Ruth."  
  
"I know, Mum. I do, too. But"--he sighed--"that part of it's over, I guess."  
  
"What about that Jane girl? You were seeing her for a while, weren't you?"  
  
"Is this what you'd have been like? Quizzing me on my girlfriends?"  
  
"Does it bother you?"  
  
Teddy thought about it. "No. I kind of like it. But I'll deny it to the world if you mention anything."  
  
"So... who's next?"  
  
"No idea. Where's Dad?"  
  
"Grimmauld Place. He and Grayfur have been arguing about Hogwarts again. I'm sure he'd appreciate a good way out. Go ahead, give him a yell." She moved aside and covered her ears playfully.  
  
"Dad!" Teddy called. "And Sirius... you, too."  
  
Sirius appeared first, coming from what appeared, in the painting, to be Kreacher's cupboard. He made an exaggerated, house elf-like bow and said, "What does Master wish of me?"  
  
"Shut up, Sirius," Mum said.  
  
"If Mistress wishes," Sirius said, grinning, and sat down at the table.   
  
Dad appeared a few seconds later from the stairwell. "Teddy? What is it?"  
  
"It's, er... the gold. Sirius's gold."  
  
Sirius rolled his eyes. "Harry asked me about that a couple of days ago. What are the two of you on about? He wanted to know if he'd done what I wanted with it."  
  
"Well... did he?"  
  
"No, Teddy, if I'd known you were coming, I'd have made sure you never got a Knut. I'd have taken everything else away from you while I was at it. Why, you've no business with your hands on any--"  
  
"Come on, Padfoot," Teddy said. "It's a fair question."  
  
"Of course it's what I would have done," Sirius said impatiently. " _Really_ , Teddy. I left it all to Harry because I knew your dad would've shoved anything I left to him away anyway."  
  
"Which brings us to you," Teddy said, looking at Dad. "How do you feel about it?"  
  
"How am I to feel? It's yours, and I'm..." He pointed at a few paint smears in the background. "Well, I'm not actually here to feel anything."  
  
Teddy frowned at him. "What do the lot of you want me to do with it?"  
  
"Buy a herd of racing unicorns," Sirius suggested. "Then hire jockeys and race them in the Kentucky Derby. The roses would look smashing on a unicorn."  
  
"What?"  
  
"He means, do whatever you like," Mum translated.  
  
"There's nothing you'd have done?"  
  
"There might have been, but the gold isn't mine anymore. It's yours and Harry's. That's sort of the point of a will."  
  
"What _would_ you have done?"  
  
"No idea."  
  
"That's helpful."  
  
"Leave it be, Teddy," Mum said. "It's sat quietly this long; it'll sit a bit longer."  
  
"I know!" Sirius said. "And I mean it, I'd like it for me."  
  
Teddy raised his eyebrows. The portraits didn't generally ask for things for themselves. "What is it?"  
  
"Get one of those abstract paintings from the sixties, where everything is bright and swirling around. I want to see what would happen if I went into it."  
  
Teddy laughed. "I'll see what I can find."  
  
The front door opened, and Granny called, "Teddy? I saw the lights!"  
  
"And think about those unicorns," Sirius said. "They'd be great."  
  
"Unicorns?" Granny asked, coming into the room.  
  
"Better not to ask," Mum said.  
  
"Then I won't," Granny told her, and sat down, smiling stiffly. She hadn't adjusted very well to the portrait's presence, and her conversations with it were always stilted. Teddy tried to get the atmosphere back to the sort of relaxed one it had been before, but it was obvious that the conversation was over. He went to the kitchen with Granny, had a drink with her, and talked about the play she and Ellsworth had seen. (It was a Muggle musical in the West End, and she'd enjoyed it a great deal, but railed about how the wizarding world had fallen so far behind in the performing arts.)  
  
Before going to bed, Teddy took out his crystal ball, an artifact he'd drawn out of the Daedalus Maze. It was something like a permanent Conjuring, according to Maddie, though, when pressed, she admitted to having no idea _what_ it really was. The visions within the Maze had no substance, and there wasn't any way it should have produced a real artifact. But as far as Teddy could tell, it was just a standard crystal ball, albeit one to which he had a particularly strong affinity. He tapped it with his wand, wondering what it would show him. Nothing was clear, but he could see a dark shadow spreading inside of it, taking the shape of the body hung from a wire in over Knockturn Alley, then moving on, swirling into man-shapes on the street, then dissipating.  
  
Teddy shook his head. He was starting to come around to Granddad's view of the subject of Divination (or at least what Granny said it had been): the most useless skill on Earth.  
  
He left the crystal ball out, as it occasionally helped him focus his dreams, but nothing came to him that night except an image of Sirius, standing on the cliff at Shell Cottage and laughing while a herd of racing unicorns ran around him.  
  
The next few days were spent packing, getting his school things together for what he tried to convince himself was the last time. The portrait would be the last thing into the trunk and the first out (he'd shrink it to a quarter of its size and wrap it in about half a dozen protective spells), and except for that, he was packed completely before Ruthless's eighteenth birthday on the thirty-first. She didn't have time for much of a party, as Ron had her interviewing prisoners at Azkaban for most of the day about who Runcorn's enemies were likely to have been, but they did manage to come up with a few things. He gave her a new Beater's bat, and she promptly made a holster for it. Sam Cresswell gave her an antique looking necklace, and they laughed about whether or not "this one" had a curse on it.  
  
Teddy kissed her cheek before he left.  
  
He did dream that night, of the spreading shadow in the crystal ball. It seeped through the streets of the city, like the Angel of Death in Egypt, wrapping itself around lampposts, sinking between the cobblestones of Diagon Alley, finally speeding through the countryside, speeding like a train, like smoke from its stack, like--  
  
"Teddy!"  
  
He opened his eyes.  
  
Uncle Harry's Patronus was standing at the foot of his bed.  
  
"Teddy, come to the station early. Bring the Head Boy and Head Girl if you know who they are. We're going to need your help."


	5. The Last First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Teddy's seventh year begins, the nightmares of Harry's own seventh year begin to intrude when one of Harry's classmates falls victim to the Needle's Eye killer.

Weird World, the fantastical resort of the Weird Sisters, had been built mainly for the benefit of Donzo, who'd been the only child among the lot of them until two years ago, when Donaghan Tremlett and his twenty year old wife had produced a daughter and given her the unfortunate name of Vevina Slany. The other band members tormented the young wife by pretending to think the baby's name was Va-voom, and it had stuck.   
  
It was Va-voom Tremlett who was standing beside Donzo's trunk, her black pig-tails askew, when Teddy spilled out of the fireplace. He nearly ran into her trying to catch his feet, but she didn't move. She sucked her thumb passively, and looked at him through her wide, dark eyes.  
  
"Hey, Voom," he said.  
  
At the sound of his voice, she screamed and ran away.  
  
Donzo's voice came down the hall, and Teddy heard the scream get louder as Voom was scooped up. "Come on, you. I doubt it's the mugger in the closet. It's probably just Teddy." He came in, Voom balanced on his hip, and pointed. "See, you know Teddy. You sat on his lap before I went away."  
  
Voom stopped sniffling, looked Teddy over, and held out her arms.  
  
Donzo handed her over. "What's this about?"  
  
"I don't know," Teddy said. "Uncle Harry said to get the Head Boy and Head Girl. I know you're Head Boy. Who's..." He saw the look on Donzo's face. "Oh, you're joking."  
  
"No joke, I'm afraid. I'll hail Her Infernal Nosiness. Should she bring her trunk?"  
  
"I'd guess so. There's not going to be a lot of time if there's something we need to do before the train leaves."  
  
Donzo sent off his Patronus, then fixed a few settings on the fireplace. "Where's _your_ trunk?"  
  
"In my bag," Teddy said, shifting his book bag, which was hanging like a lead weight on his shoulder. Hermione Weasley had taught him her Expansion Charm for bags, and it would be handy in getting around, but it wasn't exactly feather weight.  
  
"Can you fit mine?" Donzo asked.  
  
"Fit it, yes, carry it, no. The strap would break. I'm pretty sure I'm missing something in the charm."  
  
Donzo shrugged philosophically, Transfigured his trunk into a small suitcase, and picked it up.  
  
The flames in the fireplace went green, and Honoria Higgs appeared, looking irritated, though this was her common expression, so Teddy wasn't sure it was directed at them. "Well?"  
  
"No idea," Donzo said. "Harry Potter wants us at the station early."  
  
"Last I knew, the Headmistress was meant to send out the Head Boy and Head Girl."  
  
"I doubt he'd have called if it weren't important," Teddy said. "We just need to get to the station early."  
  
"I could have gone directly there instead of Flooing all this way."  
  
"Yes, but you'd have had to Floo to answer my Patronus anyway," Donzo said.  
  
"Is it my fault that _someone_ neglected to include me in Patronus lessons?" She looked pointedly at Teddy. She raised an eyebrow, then, to Teddy's surprise, laughed. "All right, yes, it was my fault, wasn't it?"  
  
Teddy nodded, then smiled at her and shook his head. "I'll teach you later. It's useful."  
  
"Dad says you can actually Apparate to a spot near King's Cross. No one does it because only seventh years _could_ , but..." Donzo shrugged.  
  
"We'd best get there then," Honoria said. She noticed that Teddy and Donzo had shrunk their luggage, and took hers in hand as well, turning it into a fashionable handbag. "Where do we Disapparate from around here?"  
  
"Let me put the baby back to bed," Donzo said. "Then I'll show you." He took Voom from Teddy (she started crying again, and tried reaching for Honoria), and disappeared.  
  
Honoria checked her watch. "It's seven-thirty in the morning. There'd best be a good reason for this."  
  
"Uncle Harry doesn't make a habit of calling for help if there's nothing happening."  
  
"No, I suppose not." She sighed. "Well, I suppose I should have known that we'd have an eventful last first day, and that you'd start it, again."  
  
"I didn't start it on our first first day. You did. Nasty cracks about werewolves on the train, if I recall."  
  
"You can't possibly be fishing for an apology six years later. I'd think that getting that editorial about your friends in France spread around the country while Greyback was on the loose would be quite enough proof that I know better."  
  
"Apology accepted," Teddy said.  
  
"Right... now, about the business of you telling your entire family that I'm evil?"  
  
"Who's evil?" Donzo asked, coming back in. "Has she finally admitted it?"  
  
She punched him in the arm, and the three of them went outside into the agreeable late summer morning. Dew-soaked moss threw a rich, verdant smell up into the mist as they walked a forest path strewn with pine needles, and Teddy looked up to see a robin nesting high up in a tree as they came to a small, non-descript clearing.  
  
The image from his dream came back--the dark shape spreading out with the steam from the Hogwarts Express. A dark, wild foreboding filled his head, and he stopped.  
  
"What is it?" Donzo asked. "I'd think he wouldn't have called you by Patronus if we didn't need to go quickly."  
  
In Teddy's mind, the shadow seeped out, surrounded them, spread to the others, who would be coming as well. It spilled out over calendar pages and into the lake at Hogwarts, and rose with the golden mist toward the single robin in its nest above. Teddy looked back up. The robin, startled by the movement, took flight and disappeared.  
  
"What?" Honoria asked avidly.  
  
There was nothing for it. Uncle Harry had called for help. What would come would come. Teddy swallowed. "Nothing. It's just... the last first day. It's big."  
  
"Right," Donzo said. "I'm sure that's it. Let's go."  
  
Teddy stepped into the Disapparition area, turned on his heel, and a moment later, found himself in a dilapidated building with dirty windows that looked out on the train yard. It took some doing to find their bearings at King's Cross, but by eight, they were closing in on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.  
  
"Stop!" A figure emerged from the crowd of Muggles waiting for an early train, and Teddy had time to recognize Sam Cresswell only a moment before an invisible barrier was actually put in place between them and the platform.  
  
"Harry Potter called for us," Honoria said, and pulled something glittery out of her bag--the Head Girl badge.  
  
Cresswell came up to the barrier and looked at it. "Right. I'll get him."  
  
"Already here." Uncle Harry came up behind him, waved his wand at the barrier, and made it disappear. He held out a hand to Teddy to shake, then to Donzo. He looked at Honoria, shook her hand more warily, and said, "Miss Higgs, you're here in your capacity as Head Girl, not _Charmer_ reporter. Are we perfectly clear?"  
  
"The press is free," Honoria said. "I'll write what seems newsworthy. Perfectly clear?"  
  
Uncle Harry's jaw tightened, then he nodded. "It's news. But please don't break it until tomorrow. I don't want the new students thinking of this as their first day at Hogwarts. I'm not going to let someone steal their memories. If they hear about it tomorrow, it'll be... removed a little."  
  
"The issue doesn't come out until Friday," Honoria said. "What happened? Another murder?"  
  
Uncle Harry led them through the barrier.   
  
Teddy could see that the Aurors had already set out the obscuring torches. "What do you need?" he asked.  
  
"It's going to take time to process everything. We... we have to re-route the track away from the section that was used for. Well. We need to re-route it. But we're going to be all over this end of the platform, and we can't have anyone stumbling in, whether or not they can see--"  
  
"The body?" Honoria prompted.  
  
"The body," Uncle Harry confirmed. Teddy noticed that he was extremely pale. He ran his hand through his hair, leaving it in a slightly different mess than it had been a moment ago. "If we have Aurors steering the children every which way, then it'll be quite conspicuous. But I thought perhaps the Head Boy and Head Girl--and Teddy--would be less so."  
  
Donzo looked around. "It's a pretty big area. I think we might need all the seventh year prefects."  
  
"Handle it the way you think it's best to handle it. I--" He stopped as Ron came by, looking green, and carrying something in a box.  
  
They hadn't bothered to obscure the box top, and Teddy looked down into it. A pair of human hands lay in white ice.  
  
He looked toward the section of the platform that had been obscured. As the tracks turned into it, he caught the tiniest glimpse of something red on the rail.  
  
He looked back at Uncle Harry. "They took his hands off with the train?"  
  
"Probably not with the train. But on the tracks. He was the conductor. It was the only job he could get out of school. He never was very good at anything."  
  
"You know him?"  
  
Uncle Harry nodded. "He was a friend of Malfoy's. His name was Gregory Goyle." 

"I know Goyle," Honoria said, and for the first time in a long while, Teddy thought she looked shaken. "I mean, I hadn't met him, personally, but I know friends of friends, and when I was in Greece a couple of summers ago, they were talking about him. Marcus Flint said that he was thinking of marrying a girl that he'd met by post."  
  
"He did," Harry said. "They just had a baby. I sent Ruth Scrimgeour to tell her what's happened."  
  
Honoria shook her head, dazed, then straightened her spine. "Well, we'd best get going. The bigger families and younger children always start showing up by nine-thirty--they're excited and want good seats. It's already a quarter after eight. We should definitely call the other prefects."  
  
"I'll do it," Donzo said. "Everyone but Lizzie can send back a Patronus, and I don't think we have to worry about Lizzie not showing up. We can tell the littler ones that we're trying to start a new tradition of seventh years saying hello at the platform and helping younger kids find their way."  
  
Honoria thought about it. "Not bad, but don't try to elaborate; it'll make them suspicious."  
  
"That'll work," Uncle Harry said. "I appreciate your help, Higgs, and I'm sorry you found out about someone you know this way."  
  
"Well, he wasn't exactly a family friend." She blanched. "I'd best tell Rita Skeeter to watch her back. She's my godmother, but I think she's not exactly beloved in some circles. Which would be the same circles where--"  
  
"I have people looking after Rita," Uncle Harry said. "But don't tell her. I don't think she'd take it well."  
  
Honoria, looking relieved at this intelligence, just said, "Probably true."  
  
"What about the Malfoys?" Teddy asked.  
  
Uncle Harry looked pained. "Yes. I suppose. Draco will be less thrilled than Rita." He sighed. "I should get him word about Goyle, though. I don't have time, and he wouldn't take well to a Patronus dropping in."  
  
Teddy waited for Donzo to go off and send a Patronus to the other prefects--Corky from Slytherin, Roger and Tinny from Hufflepuff, and Donzo's partner in Ravenclaw, Lizzie Richardson--and the others to arrive. It took about ten minutes; most of them were as excited as first years and already packed. It seemed natural that as Head Boy and Head Girl, Donzo and Honoria should explain things to the others, so Teddy waited until the attention was off of him and slipped back into the shadows, where Uncle Harry was trying to hide the blood better whilst still giving enough room for his Aurors to do their work.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
Uncle Harry looked up, surprised. "Yes, Teddy. I'm fine. Thank you."  
  
"You don't look fine."  
  
"You being of age doesn't mean we switch roles." He managed a smile. "Give me a break. I'm still getting used to looking up at you."  
  
"I'm still getting used to that, too. Do you need anything?"  
  
Uncle Harry stood up, looking out over the platform. "I need to catch this bastard." He put a hand on Teddy's arm, then sat down on one of the benches. "It's strange. I loathed Goyle. He was a thug and a bully, and not very... Teddy? What is it?"  
  
"A thug and a bully," Teddy said. "Big bloke."  
  
"Yes..."  
  
Teddy held out his hands and curled them into fists. "Rule of the fist. Metaphorically, anyway."  
  
"Oh, my God. His hands. And Runcorn's jaw and eyes for spying and turning people in." Teddy nodded. Uncle Harry unconsciously rubbed his scar. (It didn't hurt him anymore, but habits died harder than Dark wizards.) "I'll point that out to Goldstein; he's trying to get an idea of who this is."  
  
"Hope it's useful."  
  
"I'm sorry to drag you in this morning. I know--it's an important day for you, too, but it just seemed the best way to handle it, and I knew I could trust you."  
  
Teddy couldn't think of anything to say to this that didn't sound wrong somehow, so he just gave Uncle Harry's shoulder a squeeze and said, "We'll handle the kids. I've got your back."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Teddy returned to the prefects, who were just getting the gist of what they were expected to do.  
  
"Not to be too practical," Tinny said, "but we should get our luggage and pets on board the train before anyone gets here. And Teddy, where's your cat?"  
  
"I asked Granny to bring her closer to eleven. She didn't need to be asleep yet." He hadn't, in fact, asked, just left a note--but he knew Granny well enough to know that she wouldn't miss her last chance to send him off to school. It occurred to him that maybe Uncle Harry could tell her about Goyle, and she could tell Draco before he heard it from some less sympathetic source.  
  
There was a grinding sound of brick on stone, and the first family came through the passage.  
  
"...now, we'll find somewhere to wait, they won't let us board this early, but you'll get to see everyone, Timothy, and you'll see that they aren't frightening at all..."  
  
A brightly-robed woman was pulling a trunk, and behind her was a very small first year boy. Teddy started over, but Tinny was already on the case, with all of her Hufflepuff warmth. A few minutes later, the boy was smiling tentatively, but Teddy didn't see how it ended, as the next families were starting to arrive.  
  
The early trickle was easy to handle, but by ten o'clock, families were coming in regularly, and there was no way to stop each individual child for a pick-me up conversation. Instead, they formed a loose greeting line that happened to follow the line of the Aurors' torches. Roger did a mild restraining spell that he used around Hagrid's paddock when he was cleaning, that convinced the creatures that they really wanted to be elsewhere. It worked on about half of the people. The others seemed to buy the idea that the seventh years were trying to create a tradition--Teddy's year was known, and thought to be odd because it was so small and so marked by the war. A few parents looked suspiciously beyond them, where there was a space that was obviously inaccessible, but most of them were focused on getting their children onto the Hogwarts Express.  
  
Bill and Fleur arrived with their brood at ten-thirty. Aimee would be starting this year, and her older sisters, Victoire and Marie, were fussing over her. Victoire happened to look up and notice the line of first years. She broke off and marched straight to Teddy.  
  
"What's this?"  
  
"Trying to start a new tradition."  
  
"You and Higgs?"  
  
"The prefects. She's Head Girl."  
  
"You get one chance to not lie to me."  
  
"I won't lie. But I won't tell you right now."  
  
"Later?"  
  
"At school."  
  
She gave him a suspicious look. "Do you need help from the fifth year prefects? The Shacklebolts were right behind us, and Story and I can get our crews together..."  
  
"No. We've got it. Go fuss over Aimee."  
  
Maurice wasn't as easily put off a few minutes later, and he joined the line between Teddy and Donzo. Jane Hunter took Teddy's other side, under the guise of discussing their non-existent relationship. As the rest of the year drifted in--Franklin Driscoll, Laura Chapman, Connie Deverill, Brendan Lynch and Joe Palmer--they took their places casually, not giving anyone a choice.  
  
"Only one missing," Jane said. "Maybe he won't show. He hates the wizarding world so much, maybe he'll just skip seventh year."  
  
Teddy glanced at the barrier. "No such luck."  
  
A large, awkward-looking young man with flat brown hair nearly ironed over his head was coming through, carrying a suitcase on wheels and a book bag. He looked at the crowd with great distaste.  
  
Maurice leaned over to Teddy. "I don't think Geoffrey's going to be very reassuring to anyone. Maybe he won't notice us."  
  
They weren't so fortunate. Geoffrey Phillips, the only member of Teddy's year with whom he'd been able to establish no rapport at all, glanced over and saw the rest of them standing in a line. He lowered his head bullishly and came over, ignoring anyone in the path. He also ignored Teddy entirely and went to Franklin Driscoll, with whom he shared a dormitory (along with Donzo, but they didn't speak to each other directly very often).  
  
"What's this?"  
  
"We're welcoming the younger students," Franklin said. "Not really your thing."  
  
"To the contrary, I have quite a lot to tell them about this--"  
  
"I said, 'welcome,' Geoff."  
  
Teddy had only been listening to this with half an ear, and he lost even that interest when Geoffrey put down his book bag. The sport coat he was wearing was unbuttoned, and it opened to reveal a red tee-shirt underneath. On it was an oversized black needle with an exaggerated eye, a cockroach impaled at the end of it. This went diagonally. In the lower corner under it, the base of the "R" also stamping at the cockroach, was the word "Revolution."

 

Teddy grabbed Geoffrey's arm and pulled him aside, toward Donzo. "Where in the hell did you get that shirt?"  
  
"What the--" Donzo broke off his greeting to a third year, tapped Honoria's shoulder, and made a sign toward Geoffrey. Her jaw dropped and she started over, but Donzo made another sign to continue what they were doing. He strode over. "Phillips."  
  
Geoffrey smirked.  
  
"Where did you get it?" Teddy repeated.  
  
"Made the graphic on my computer," Geoffrey said casually. "And there are plenty of shops that'll put whatever you like on a T-shirt."  
  
"Put on your school robes right now," Donzo told him. "No one wants to see that."  
  
"Yeah? So why did ten kids on the platform outside ask me where they could get one?"  
  
Donzo shook his head in disbelief. "Geoff, even you can't possibly be suggesting that sadistic murder is a good idea."  
  
Geoffrey shrugged. "No. This bloke's a pure psychopath."  
  
Teddy tried to think of some way to even approach this, and ended up just shaking his head helplessly.  
  
Geoffrey took it as a question. "Being a psychopath doesn't make him _wrong_ , per se. We needed a shock. We're too complacent. We didn't solve the problem before, and we've managed to convince ourselves that there isn't one."  
  
"Are you mad?" Donzo asked.  
  
"Not that I know of. Everyone else, I wonder about. This whole bloody country." He raised his voice, adopting a caricature of a posh London accent. "'Oh, dear, someone just made a war that got half of us killed and nearly turned us into a dictatorship, so let's go have a cup of tea and get back to where we were before just as fast as we can, even though that's what got us in trouble in the first place. We'll just close our eyes and keep a stiff upper lip and put the whole rotten system back in place. Tea?'" He wrinkled his nose and went back to his normal tone. "How deeply goddamned British."  
  
"And what are you, a Venusian?" Teddy asked.  
  
"Oh, he's far above us," Donzo said. "Trust me, I've heard the entire diatribe in the dormitory. It doesn't get any more interesting."  
  
"Oh, so sorry not to engage your pedestrian little mind. Why should you worry about changing the country when you have a concert tour to plan?"  
  
Donzo gave an incredibly bored sigh. "Congratulations, Geoff. You've managed to create a depth of philosophy worthy of a cranky toddler. Now get into your school robes, or so help me God, you're going on the train starkers."  
  
"I can express any opinion I like."  
  
Teddy shoved him back into a brick pillar. "Listen, you troll. This isn't about your politics. This is about real dead people who have real live people who cared about them. Show some respect for their feelings."  
  
"People? Then there _has_ been another murder. I wondered what all of this nonsense was about."  
  
"A lot of people have died over this," Teddy said, cursing himself, but not letting go of Geoffrey. "Either Transfigure the shirt or get into your robes."  
  
"You know I can defend against any hex you try."  
  
"Your mistake," someone said behind Teddy, "is assuming we'd do it magically." Corky came up at Teddy's left shoulder and cracked his knuckles menacingly. Donzo loomed over his right.  
  
"Oh, good," Geoffrey said. "The brawn." But he was a smaller than Corky, Teddy, or Donzo (let alone all three of them) and grumbled. "Fine." He opened his suitcase and got out a Hogwarts school robe, which he pulled on over the T-shirt. "But it's not the last one you're going to see. People are thinking now. We can't just bury our heads in the sand forever. This bloke"--he pointed at the now-covered needle on his chest--"might be a nutter, but he did remind us of that simple fact. We cured a symptom, but we haven't got rid of the disease yet."  
  
Donzo looked at him blankly, then looked over his shoulder and called their other dormitory mate, Franklin Driscoll. "Driscoll! Look who's here--why don't you and Geoff find a compartment on the train. Make sure he doesn't get cold." He turned back to Geoffrey and stared at him icily until Franklin marched him away.  
  
"You don't suppose people were _really_ asking for those shirts?" Teddy said.  
  
Donzo sighed. "I guarantee it. Geoff's an ass, but he's not a liar. Dad's had letters from people trying to sell the Sisters lyrics about 'cleaning house' and so on. He didn't buy. Three of them started a band of their own. It's called TornHeart. They wanted to be Dad's opening act. Why do you think the Sisters are making noise about retiring?"  
  
"And leave us with _that_ as an alternative?" Corky asked.  
  
"Well, there'll still be me. I promise, I'm not much for house-cleaning." Donzo grinned. "Come on. Crisis averted. Let's get back to the job at hand."  
  
They continued the greeting line, though, as eleven o'clock approached, the number of new arrivals was dwindling again. At ten minutes before eleven, Granny came through the barrier and waved to Teddy. She looked irritated.  
  
He pulled Maurice over to take his place and went over to join her.  
  
"A note?" she said. "You left a note?"  
  
"Uncle Harry wanted some help." He looked around, decided no one was nearby, then told her in a low voice what had happened.  
  
"Oh. I see." She handed him a basket. "I just Charmed Checkmate to sleep, so she should be good for the whole ride." She considered what he'd said, then nodded. "You're right. I should tell Cissy and Draco. And then tell them to get out of the country again."  
  
"And Lucius?"  
  
"I suppose they'd see through it if I told them he might enjoy a midnight stroll in Diagon Alley." She shook her head. "No. There's been enough."  
  
Teddy wanted to have a long talk with her about Geoffrey's comments--she'd been known to engage in a few shock tactics herself at Geoffrey's age--but there was no time. Instead, he hugged her tightly.  
  
She pulled away and patted his arm. "You're a good boy, Teddy. But you're not a boy anymore, are you?"  
  
Teddy wasn't sure what to say to that, other than, "Sorry."  
  
"No." She smiled. "You're a good man. And that's even better. I'm proud of you, and your mum and dad would be as well. Go on. I'll talk to Harry after the train leaves, to get whatever details he thinks the Malfoys ought to know." She stepped back, raised her chin firmly and gave him a gentle shove to send him on his way.  
  
When Teddy got back to the line, Uncle Harry was talking to Donzo and the others. The tail end of it made it obvious that it was a thank you. He waved them toward the train.  
  
Teddy went to him. "I guess this is it until Christmas."  
  
"I'll be there in October to teach again," Uncle Harry said. "And I'd best see some impressive things from a handful of seventh year N.E.W.T. students."  
  
"We'll do our best."  
  
"Then I'll be impressed."  
  
Teddy gave him a quick hug, then went to the compartment on the train where they'd stashed their luggage. There was no time to settle in before the train started, and the prefects' meeting was called early. Uncle Harry had given Donzo and Honoria permission to tell everyone what was going on, and because of that, the meeting lasted for a good part of the trip. Teddy told them about Geoffrey's shirt. Most were disturbed by it, but two of the fifth years (the Hufflepuff boy and the Ravenclaw girl--the latter to Story's disgust) defended it.  
  
When the meeting was over, they went back to the compartments they'd started in, though Victoire and Story decided to join Teddy's group. Maurice's brother Wendell had joined the non-prefects, and spent the whole trip sitting quietly in Maurice's shadow, speaking only when spoken to and looking quite terrified. He'd been Sorted over the summer in a private meeting with the Headmistress, and would be joining Maurice in Slytherin, but that was all Teddy was able to get from him. No information was offered about where he'd been.   
  
Tinny declared a moratorium on discussing the murders, to everyone's relief, and they spent the rest of the journey talking pleasantly about their plans for the year.  
  
"I'm going to do articles about our year," Honoria said casually as they pulled into Hogsmeade station.  
  
"What for?" Roger asked.  
  
"The smallest year comes to an end." She sighed. "I _was_ going to call it 'Through the Needle's Eye,' but I guess I'll have to call it something else now."  
  
"Good thinking," Maurice said dryly. "I still don't see where it's news."  
  
"Of course we're news!" Honoria said, getting her trunk out from under a seat. "We're the last of the war."  
  
"Maybe we _were_ ," Maurice reminded her. "Not anymore. The war's come back."  
  
There was nothing to say to this.  
  
Slowly, the smallest year left the Hogwarts Express and went out into the chilly Scottish night.


	6. The Smallest Year, Once More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy and his year arrive at Hogwarts, and, for the first time since their first year, begin to talk about the dark reasons behind their small numbers.

"Can't I stay with you?" Wendell Burke asked Maurice. "Please, I don't know them yet."  
  
"You know Neil. Why do you think I invited him up from France?" Maurice said. "Go sit with him, he'll introduce you to the others. Stay away from H.J. Traynor as much as you can, though; he's a right pain."  
  
Wendell squirmed a bit, then said, "There's a girl with him."  
  
"It's just Celia Dean," Teddy told him. "She's a second year. She's Vivian Waters' foster daughter--she and Neil live in France together."  
  
Wendell paled. "She's a--?"  
  
Teddy nodded. "She'll tell you about it in great detail if you ask her. That should keep you busy the whole way to the castle."  
  
The idea of being told, in great detail, about lycanthropy caused Wendell to become more pale than usual, but he had no further chance to object. Neil--a third year now, but only slightly more confident than he'd been as a firstie--must have seen him and pointed him out, because now Celia was descending on him like an avidly maternal hen, and between the two of them, they manhandled him into a carriage full of Celia's Gryffindor friends, leaving the boys, who would now be roommates, with only one another to talk to.  
  
Teddy climbed into a carriage with Maurice, Donzo, Corky, and Honoria (Honoria was nearly sitting on Corky's lap, so Teddy guessed that their latest break-up had ended). As the thestrals pulled them up the road toward the castle, Honoria said, "So, Burke--are you planning to explain the sudden appearance of your brother, or do I have to find these things out my way?"  
  
Maurice looked at her dully. "I don't suppose there's the slightest chance that you'll just accept 'None of your business' as an answer?"  
  
"Probably not, no."  
  
"But if you tell us, she might decide it's too dull for the paper," Corky said.  
  
Maurice considered this, then said, "Not bloody likely." He lapsed into morose silence.  
  
"Come on, Moe," Donzo said. "There's nothing to be ashamed of."  
  
"You know?" Teddy asked.  
  
"Yeah," Maurice said. He sighed. "I had a letter when we got to Coeur d'Alene this summer, when Wendell got Sorted. Don was with me when it came."  
  
Corky frowned. "Where was I?"  
  
"It was when you dragged Roger off to see that giant plastic girl in Blackfoot. Which we'd been much closer to in Utah, by the way, and--"  
  
"What was in the letter?"  
  
Maurice shrugged. "The letter was just about being Sorted. Professor Sprout brought him up to her office, and they put the Hat on him, and he was telling me that we'd be in the same House. Don just... asked about the rest."  
  
"So what was it?" Honoria asked. "I know he was ill... did he have spattergroit or was it something rarer?"  
  
"It was the goddamned shop," Maurice said testily. "My dad's cousin Veradisia took Wendell with her to Valencia to look for merchandise. It was meant to be a present before he went to school. She took me to Sri Lanka to go retrieve a bit of junk from someone who'd been scavenging battlefields. That should have been more dangerous than heading out for Spain."  
  
"So, what happened?" Teddy asked.  
  
"She was bargaining with an old nobleman for a two-sided mirror that was supposed to curse people. That's the part that makes me mad--she _knew_ what it was supposed to do. But it was only if two people looked in it from either side at the same time. She said she didn't mean for that to happen, but Wendell got nervous waiting by himself, and he happened to come in while she was looking at it, and--" He sighed. "The curse is nasty. It made both of them too weak to do much, but the only way out of it was for one of them to die. They went to a lot of Healers, but no one could break it. They just kept getting weaker. Last May, Veradisia came to visit, and gave Wendell a lot of things she valued, and then went home and drank a poison she'd been brewing. The curse broke, and now Wendell's here. And Borgin can't figure out why we don't want the bloody shop. I'd burn it down if I didn't think it would kill me for trying."  
  
The carriage bumped to a stop in front of the castle, none of them entirely sure what to say to this.  
  
Maurice jumped down first. "Don't know about you lot, but I want to get in there before I freeze to death."  
  
Honoria got down. "Corky's right. It's not that fascinating. Page four, bottom corner, at most--and that's if I've got room."  
  
Maurice looked irritated.  
  
She smiled. "And I'll make sure he meets all the right people."  
  
"I already did," Maurice said, and pointed ahead, to where Neil Overby was indicating various Hogwarts landmarks to Wendell. At the moment, he was pointing out the White Tomb, and Wendell looked quite awed. Celia Dean and her Gryffindor girlfriends were chatting amiably on the steps and ignoring both of them. She waved eagerly to Teddy, then went back to her more important business.  
  
Two more carriages trundled up, and the rest of the seventh years disembarked from them. Franklin Driscoll seemed to be keeping Geoff under surveillance, and the two Ravenclaw girls, Lizzie Richardson and Connie Deverell, had been in the carriage with them, along with Laura Chapman, a pretty Hufflepuff girl. Teddy had dated both Lizzie and Laura, and they'd hated one another like poison for a while, but now were quite good friends, largely based on their agreement that he was a terrible boyfriend (though they'd forgiven him enough to be his friends again, much to his relief). The other Hufflepuffs--Tinny, Roger, and Joe Palmer--were riding with Jane and Brendan.  
  
All of them stopped on the steps as the other years went in around them. Geoff looked irritated at this, but didn't break ranks.  
  
"Last Sorting feast," Corky said.  
  
Tinny smiled. "Judging by last year, I think we girls should eat first, before the boys actually eat the House tables."  
  
"Survival of the fittest," Roger said. "To each his own."  
  
"What kind of Hufflepuff are you?"  
  
"The sort who's read his Darwin... _finally_ ," Jane chided him as they started to move again.  
  
They went into the castle together, passed the stairs, from which they could hear Professor Longbottom welcoming the first years, who were just coming up from the boats, then entered the Great Hall as a group.  Teddy stopped to look around at the Great Hall, and the rest of the year slowed down along with him. None of the other years noticed.  
  
Teddy felt a hand on his arm, and turned to see Professor Longbottom, coming up from where he'd left the first years. "Are the lot of you planning to be re-Sorted?" he asked.  
  
Honoria turned. "It would be interesting, wouldn't it, to see if anything had changed."  
  
"The Hat doesn't like to change its habits." Professor Longbottom looked at all of them fondly (even Geoff, as he had no idea what Geoff was wearing under his robes). "I'll miss this group next year. You've been quite an adventure."  
  
Donzo smiled. "Don't worry. I'm sure Teddy can come back to blow something up for you."  
  
This got a laugh from professor and students alike, and they all drifted off to their tables. Professor Longbottom went to check with the Sorting Hat (he put it on briefly to confer), then went back to collect the first years.  
  
Teddy went to the Gryffindor table and sat beside Victoire, who smiled at him and quite efficiently put everything else out of his mind. He managed to smile back.  
  
This wouldn't do at all.  
  
He turned and concentrated on a conversation with Marie, who was devastated that Victoire had been made a prefect, and was convinced that her entire life at Hogwarts was now ruined.  
  
"I've been a prefect the whole time you've been at school," Teddy reminded her, "and you've managed to adjust to the humiliation well enough."  
  
"That's different."  
  
"Just because I'm not related?"  
  
"Because you're not a very _good_ prefect. You haven't taken points from me since my very first day, and Victoire's already started in on it."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really! I just altered my robes a little bit on the train"--she showed him a strange, jagged hem she'd put in, that went up to her knee in some places and down to her ankles in others--"and she said I wasn't in proper school uniform, and took five points! She's not going to stop there, either, I'd wager. And it's just _robes!_ "  
  
"Well..."  
  
"What? I think it looks a lot better like this. And Dad gave me his dragon tooth earring!" She pulled her hair back on the left side to show it. "He wouldn't let me buy the boots I wanted, though."  
  
"Mmm. I see your life has taken a turn for the tragic."  
  
Marie stuck out her tongue at him.  
  
He grinned and turned his hair bright green.  
  
She tossed a bit of paper over at her sister and said, "Victoire, Teddy's not in a proper school hairstyle!"  
  
"There are no rules about Teddy's hair," Victoire said, "no matter how silly he decides to look."  
  
He put blue squares in it.  
  
Victoire bit her lip--whether to keep from laughing or to keep from correcting him, he wasn't sure, and didn't care. He was too busy thinking about biting her lip himself. He swallowed hard and turned away.  
  
The doors opened with a grand sweep, and the last Sorting Ceremony of Teddy's Hogwarts life began.

The first thing  he noticed was that the Gryffindor families were coming back.

For the third year running, Gryffindor would have the most new students. Bill's girls were the vanguard of the next Weasley generation (and Aimee, of course, joined her sisters), and Oliver Wood's firstborn, Colin, took his place with great joy. Teddy had met his younger sister, Minerva, and had no doubt that, in two years, she would be here as well. There was a Kirke, a Frobisher, a Robins, and a Jordan, though Teddy didn't know how the last was related to Lee. Percy's daughter Molly had been Sorted into Ravenclaw last year (much to Marie's relief), but next year, James would be the leading edge for the real influx of Weasleys and Potters from all sides, and Teddy was quite sure that the vast majority of them would be sitting at this table. Of course, there were also the newcomers--three Muggle-borns and four who didn't come from Gryffindor families at all--but on the whole, what Teddy saw when he looked out was a many-headed phoenix, rising cheerfully from the ashes of his own decimated year.  
  
The Feast was warm and welcoming, and Teddy made a point of saying hello to each of the new first years. Celia Dean, who'd become quite popular last year, started tailing around after him, giving him grander and grander introductions with each stop, until he finally tugged on her pigtail and sent her back to her dormitory mates. He finished up with Aimee, to whom he said, "Oh, right, there's you," and plopped down beside her, stealing an apple from beside her plate.  
  
She reached under his arm and took a turkey leg from _his_ plate.  
  
Victoire smiled at him over Aimee's head. He smiled numbly back, then Marie scrambled over him--standing up on the bench and climbing over his back--and Aimee ducked under his arm to get away from her, and his plate overturned on all three of them.  
  
In all, it was a satisfactory opening to his final year.  
  
The news of the murder at King's Cross didn't wait for Honoria's school paper to break it on Friday; Monday morning, it was the lead in the _Prophet_. At breakfast, Geoffrey accused the Aurors of using the seventh years to "cover up the truth," and, to Teddy's dismay, several younger students seemed to be seething with outrage over it. They responded to a nasty, impromptu speech on the subject with furious cheers. Geoff, for the moment, was restraining himself from saying that Goyle had deserved it, but Teddy was quite sure it would have got to that if Professor Longbottom hadn't intervened and sent everyone off to class (engendering irritated grumblings about the return of Umbridge, trying to restrict free speech).  
  
Teddy didn't see Geoffrey again until History of Magic that afternoon. There were only four students taking N.E.W.T. level History of Magic--Teddy, Donzo, Geoffrey, and Honoria. Teddy and Honoria both needed a solid grounding in wizarding history for their chosen careers, and Geoffrey had enjoyed skewering Binns since first year. Teddy was baffled as to why Donzo was taking it, but he said he just liked history, despite Binns' best efforts to kill the interest.  
  
Binns hadn't arrived yet when they got there. Teddy took his customary seat by the window, and Donzo grabbed a book from the wall case at random. Honoria was scribbling madly on a piece of parchment, and Teddy guessed it was a future _Charmer_ article.  
  
Geoffrey took a seat on the edge of Binns' desk. "Wonder if he'll bother with the historical roots of our needle-loving friend."  
  
"Don't start," Donzo warned him.  
  
"I'll say whatever I want," Geoffrey said. "Free speech. You believe in that, right Higgs?"  
  
"Free speech doesn't mean that there are no consequences for saying idiotic things," Honoria said, not looking at him. "For instance, if I write that you're a raving loony, I'd expect you to protest that you aren't, and to expect me to apologize. And if you keep going on like a raving loony, which you have every right to do, I'd expect that eventually, someone is going to do this." She pointed her wand at him, and there was a bright slapping sound. A red weal appeared on Geoffrey's cheek. "Which _I_ have every right to do."  
  
"You don't have a right to personal assault." Geoffrey sniffed. "Then again, that's what you pure-bloods always think. That's why there are only fifteen of us to begin with."  
  
Binns came through the wall at the last moment, looking decidedly miffed, and a few seconds later, a third year with detention ran in carrying several shiny new books. She opened them up and laid them down on the desk, then scurried out.  
  
"The powers that be," Binns said, with distinct irritation, "have decreed that we study more... _modern_ history. I have pleaded the case that we do not have any mechanism by which to judge the long term effects of our more recent historical decisions, and they are therefore useless to our study here, but I have been overruled. So, we shall discuss our recent conflict."  
  
"About bloody time," Geoffrey said.  
  
"What -- no comments about Professor Binns needing to fight the system?" Donzo asked. "Ghost rights, or some such thing?"  
  
"He _is_ the system," Geoffrey said. "A doddering old ghost of itself going through the motions of being alive long after it should have disappeared."  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Phillips," Binns said. "Take your seat. Now, as you know, our current troubles arose in the distant past, in the conflict between Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor--"  
  
"Over race issues," Geoffrey spat.  
  
"Yes," Binns said. "Or blood issues, at any rate. Of course, by the time Tom Riddle styled himself as Lord Voldemort, it had gone rather beyond that, and entered the realm of a single man's megalomania."  
  
"It's never a single man," Geoffrey said. "A single man can only take advantage of a rotten society."  
  
"The same society fought him off," Donzo said. "Do we have to go over the same thing every year, Geoff?"  
  
"Want something new?" Geoff smiled coldly. "All right, now that I'm of age, I spent the summer off researching. Remember when Longbottom told us all that it wasn't so terrible, that there were a dozen others out there who just hadn't come to Hogwarts?"  
  
"Sure," Teddy said.  
  
"It was a lie. There were _nine_."  
  
Teddy shrugged. "So he rounded up."  
  
"And eight of them were rescued from St. Mungo's just before they were killed by Healers there."  
  
This got the response Geoff wanted: complete silence.  
  
He smirked and went on. "Yes, the half-bloods, the children of Muggle-borns. Their mothers were brought to St. Mungo's under false pretenses--some of them, some were taken there from the Department of Mysteries after they'd been convicted of stealing magic--and, well... there are reasons we have a small year, and it's not just because your parents were the only ones stupid enough to get sprogged up in the middle of a war."  
  
Teddy didn't know what to say to this. He'd grown up around St. Mungo's, and knew most of the Healers. He couldn't even imagine... this sort of thing.  
  
"That's not true," Honoria said.  
  
"Oh, it is," Geoff told her.  
  
"It is."  
  
Teddy looked up.   
  
Donzo was fiddling with the corner of a page of his book. He put on his glasses (mostly worn for show or to hide) and said, "My mother was Muggle-born. They caught her in Diagon Alley. She was quite pregnant that autumn, and she couldn't get away quickly. They put her in front of that... that show trial, and then they sent her to St. Mungo's, and a pack of Death Eaters set on her to... well, kill me."  
  
"How did she get away?" Honoria asked.  
  
"You know how I always talked about living with the Pondhoppers in America?" Everyone nodded; Donzo went on. "They knew what was going on. The American magical government was trying to help -- not very effectively, obviously -- and the Pondhoppers wanted to help, so they figured a touring band wasn't going to raise anyone's suspicions, especially with the stupid bubble-gum pop they do. So they signed on as agents to sneak people out, and they actually--that is--well, they heard things, and when they heard Dad going absolutely mad, they went beyond their mission. They broke into St. Mungo's, and got my Mum out, and took us to America before I was born. Dad came right after. He couldn't go back, because they knew who he was, but the band--they could, for at least a few more months. I don't know if they rescued any of the other... you know, the others from our year... but I know they got other Muggle-borns and half-bloods to safety."  
  
After he'd finished, no one spoke for a moment, then Honoria said, "And you wonder why I think our year would make a great series of stories? I have to interview your mother, and your father, and the Pondhoppers..."  
  
Geoffrey interrupted her to start an argument about why she wanted to glorify people who were interfering in another country's internal affairs without a by-your-leave, and Teddy tuned out. He pulled his chair closer to Donzo's and said, "I never knew that."  
  
Donzo shrugged. "I didn't know all of it until Mum told me last year. I'm still not sure what to do with it."  
  
Teddy shook his head. "Neither am I."

He kept thinking of it through Potions and Divination, and finally decided that there was at least one person he could ask.  He went back to his room at lunch instead of the Great  Hall.  
  
The portrait was empty when he got there --Dad and Sirius might be anywhere in the castle, or back at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, and Mum had struck up friendships with several Hogwarts portraits, which she visited regularly. (Sir Cadogan was a particular favorite, and Teddy had found her in his frame more than once, riding along on one or another of his grand adventures.) He thought about calling them back, but in the end, decided that they probably wouldn't have included that sort of memory in the portrait anyway.  
  
Instead, he sat down at his desk and stared at a piece of parchment for a long time before writing, _Dear Granny._  
  
It took a long time to finish the letter.  
  
Aside from History of Magic, Teddy was taking NEWTs in Divination, Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Astronomy, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was a heavy load, but he hadn't been able to bear losing most of them, and besides, Bill Weasley was always bragging about his twelve NEWTs, which made Teddy disappointed that the teachers had since passed rules that would only allow him to take nine.  Apparently, Muggle students typically took a lot fewer classes their last two years. Though his favorite Potions teacher had been Cho Morse, he got along quite well with her replacement, Andrew Stephens, who had been a fifth year prefect when Teddy had first arrived at Hogwarts. Getting used to calling him Professor Stephens was considerably harder than learning this skill with Professor Longbottom. Last year, when he'd arrived with a fresh crop of spots on his face (they were apparently resistant to every bubotuber potion known to wizardkind), he'd said the seventh years could call him Drew, but two days later, chagrined, he said that this was probably not a good habit to get into if he intended to stay on permanently.  
  
Stephens had, at any rate, done away with Professor Morse's cosmetic Charms on the dungeon, which had provided students with shifting scenery from around the world. In their place, he'd brought the entire storage room out into the main classroom, lining the walls with ingredients like an apothecary. When Teddy arrived at his station for his first class, he found a list of ingredients and gathered them. Glancing around at his classmates (Roger Young, Tinny Gudgeon, Jane Hunter, Joe Palmer, Franklin Driscoll, and Connie Deverell), he deduced that they were all shopping for entirely different ingredients. Intrigued, he brought his new supplies back to his cauldron and waited for Stephens, who arrived a few minutes later, carrying a stack of shiny, thin books.  
  
"Well, I'm curious," Jane piped up.  
  
Stephens started handing out the books, which were little more than pamphlets and bore the title--in simple black on white-- _Principles of Potion Creation_ , by Horace Slughorn.  
  
Teddy smiled. He'd always liked Sluggy, and wondered why he let other people do his writing.  
  
Stephens sat on the desk, dangling his large feet as if he were sitting on a table in the Gryffindor Common Room. "Ladies and gentlemen, you're of age, and you're seventh year N.E.W.T. students. I think we've taught you as much as we can about the principles of following recipes. Now, we have some fun." He grinned.  
  
"We're going to design our own potions with these?" Tinny asked.  
  
Stephens nodded. "I made up seven lists of ingredients, and from your list--which was meant to be random, but I see you've all taken the same seats as last year--you will create one new potion each month. You may use those ingredients, along with any ingredient in your standard kit. If you think you want to use another ingredient, you need to check with me first. I couldn't get permission to do this unless I promised to make sure you weren't brewing anything that could be dangerous." He paused, looking annoyed at this restriction, then said, "Any questions?"  
  
Teddy thought about it, then asked, "Can we build on potions we've already created? I mean, say that this month, I make a potion that... I don't know, reveals footprints. Could I use that potion as an ingredient in a potion in March that would show where ghosts have passed?"  
  
"Absolutely," Stephens said. "Though I should warn you, if that's the plan, that nothing on your particular list will create either of those effects. Anything else?"  
  
No one else had a question.  
  
"Then have at it."  
  
Teddy glanced over his new ingredients. Mallowsweet was used by the centaurs in star-gazing; maybe it could work with other ingredients to create a potion to increase the power of divinatory dreams. Gurdyroot might be able to repel some magical creatures. He had no idea what he might use stinksap for, but it seemed promising in combination with the gurdyroot. Some ashwinder eggs, which he'd have to keep carefully frozen, might be useful in combination with the armadillo bile from his kit...  
  
Deciding to start with his strong point, he took the mallowsweet, added it to sage from his kit, and began to write out a theory for his divinatory potion. Stephens wandered by and gave an approving sniff.  
  
Professor Trelawney, who taught all exam year Divination (as Firenze refused to teach certain methods that would appear on O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s), did not approve of what she called "false awareness of the other world," and made Teddy promise not to use his potion for classwork, if he was able to make it work at all. For her class, she wanted, of all things, a thesis on the proper use of Divination. It hadn't been at all what Teddy was expecting from the ancient, airy wisp of a witch. She assigned them readings on prophecies through history, including one with which Teddy knew he'd need to be careful, as the history books record Uncle Harry as only having "died" symbolically when he allowed himself to be taken to the Forest.  Supposedly, he'd only claimed to have died in order to discomfit Voldemort, therefore not fulfilling his prophecy to the letter. It seemed wisest to leave this interpretation in place, though, since fifth year, Teddy had known better.  
  
Tuesday brought Charms and Transfiguration, which also introduced a bit of fiddling around with the subject and expectation of creativity that hadn't been hinted at in sixth year. Teddy found himself quite glad that he'd chosen to continue.  
  
Defense Against the Dark Arts started on Wednesday, and Geoffrey again made a right pain of himself, railing against the Ministry for allowing itself to be overtaken by zealots. Jane waspily said, "Well, thank you for the lesson--we'll see to it that _you're_ never invited in."  
  
This derailed him enough for Robards to get the class back on track. He _did_ decide to study the murders, as long as they were there to be studied.  
  
"Can anyone tell me what about Gregory Goyle's murder is most troubling, in terms of Dark magic?"  
  
"That they cut his hands off with a train?" Donzo suggested.  
  
"Psychopathic," Robards said, "but as the hands were left behind, in all likelihood, not a matter of Dark wizardry. And the Aurors think it was a knife. The train had no indications that it had been used for such a ghastly purpose."  
  
Honoria suggested that blood may have been taken, and Corky brought up the disquieting idea that it had been meant to curse the Hogwarts Express itself (Robards looked alarmed at this idea and jotted it down).  
  
Teddy raised his hand.  
  
"Lupin?"  
  
"Well--isn't Platform Nine and Three-Quarters sealed pretty well when we're not using it?"  
  
"Exactly." Robards stood up and flicked his wand at the blackboard, where diagrams started to appear. "The security on the station, and on the train itself, are part and parcel of Hogwarts security. Since there was an attack during the Grindelwald Wars, _nothing_ is supposed to be able to approach without authorization. Even the Dementors who boarded shortly after Sirius Black escaped Azkaban did so with the Ministry's blessing, however misguided it was. So someone has found a way around some very deep protections." Robards looked at them significantly, then said, "This, by the way, doesn't leave this room, as you'll find when you pass the door. We don't need to spread panic. But I'm interested in your ideas..."  
  
They all participated, even Geoffrey, who managed to not sneer too deeply when he proposed that someone had allowed the murderer in from the inside.  
  
Ideas swimming in his head, Teddy left the classroom and went to supper. A school owl landed beside his plate, and he didn't notice it until it lightly pecked his wrist.  
  
The letter it carried was a response to his letter to Granny. It was quite thick. He fed the owl a bit of his sandwich, then unbound the letter, weighed it in his hands, and decided to take it up to his dormitory to read.  
  
Checkmate greeted him with a loud purr, and settled into his lap--a welcome comfort as he read.  
  
 _Dear Teddy,  
I wondered if this would ever come up again.   
  
It was talked about in the immediate aftermath of the war, and quite frequently; don't imagine that it was a great secret that was being kept from the world. But the truth is, after the war, after we'd all let our wounds start to heal, no one  wanted to keep gnawing on old bones like this. We knew what had happened. We knew we could never let it happen again. But there were babies who lived and needed to be raised, and traditions to rebuild, and families to re-found. Gardens to plant, paths to walk... you can fill in the activity of your choice; it was preferable to dwelling on evil. We'd lived in evil long enough. We'd had enough. It was time to live in the light again.  
  
But this mess with our new Dark wizard is dredging all of our sins up again, isn't it? Do you suppose Alderman might just give us all a few Hail Marys to make it go away?  
  
I'm sorry, I know you take that more seriously than I do, and I didn't mean to be flippant. In fact, I wasn't being flippant. We lack a mechanism of absolution, and I think that's why the phoenixes keep coming back to roost. We need to master the concept of putting it behind us.  
  
But I suppose, now that it's been brought up again, you need to know the whole story to understand it, if understanding is even possible.  
  
The first thing I want you to remember was that I quit my post even before Rufus Scrimgeour died. From the moment Harry and Hagrid crashed into our pond, Ted and I knew what was likely to come. He didn't dare go back for his things. I managed to get our files out. We weren't there that year.  
  
There were, however, good Healers who remained where they were. Mehadi Patil is one of them. She never participated in the destruction of half-blood pregnancies--thank heaven for small moral favors, the Death Eaters who moved into the upper administration rather preferred to do that themselves, under the direction of Delores Umbridge--but she did know what was happening, and didn't leave in protest. A lot didn't. Some stayed because they needed their jobs. Others stayed for the same reason Minerva McGonagall stayed at Hogwarts: If they didn't, they feared what would happen to their charges. While I'm certain it would have been morally satisfying for Mehadi to turn her back and flounce away, if she'd done so, then who would have been there to watch over Frank and Alice Longbottom, and get them off the Closed Ward should the Death Eaters ever decide they were more useful as dead object lessons than live leverage? Those were the sorts of horrible choices people had to make.  
  
So your classmate is quite right that it wasn't an uncommon occurrence--I would estimate at least ten of your would-be age-mates were lost in that way--but quite wrong that it was done by Healers (though, as I mentioned, this was because the Death Eaters enjoyed the chore, not because the Healers refused--we must be fair about that), or that it was covered up. It was quite open at the time, and no one denied it later--we just preferred not to talk about it. I don't suppose this young man, as you've described him, would accept such a terrible excuse.  
  
And by the way, I read between the lines of your oh-so-subtle question about my own attitudes at the age of seventeen, when I was known to recite undying poetry of resistence like, "Screw this trial, Shove this farce, right up Barty Crouch's arse." Looking back, I see myself as a foolish girl, caught up in a wave of righteous anger. Like your classmate, I saw myself as a singular beacon of light, raging against the machine. By all rights, I ought to sympathize with him fully and tell you to just let him be until he grows out of it. Your grandfather and I did.  
  
But I find I can't tell you that. There is something about what you've told me that doesn't sit right with my memories of my own youth. We were crude and angry, but inside that, there was... love? Empathy? Is there a difference? I'm not sensing that in what you've shared about this Geoffrey. Perhaps you just haven't seen it, but you're quite a perceptive man, and you've been able to see good qualities in several people you don't care for, so be careful. People without empathy are inherently dangerous people.  
  
I'm afraid this hasn't been a comforting letter from your grandmother. I have little comfort to offer on this matter. To soften it a bit, I had a lovely tea with the Potter children today, and they send their love.  
  
And I send mine.  
  
Love,  
Granny_


	7. Telling Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an article in the Charmer piques interest in what happened the year Teddy and his classmates were born, Honoria brings all of them in to tell their stories.

The first issue of the _Charmer_ came out on Friday, and to Teddy's unpleasant surprise, Geoffrey had written a long and detailed article about his findings. At some point, an editor must have removed references to Healers performing the procedures--given Geoffrey, Teddy didn't think he'd re-considered his position on his own--but the rest was there, and many students read it with ashen faces, their eyes darting toward the seventh years with frightened awe. It was hard to argue that the piece wasn't newsworthy, and certainly, it was well-researched, but something about it made Teddy feel queasy. He wasn't sure he'd ever feel quite as at ease in St. Mungo's as he always had before.  
  
Over the next week, it was the talk of Hogwarts. Teachers in disparate subjects were pulled off topic to discuss it. Younger students asked seventh years how they'd managed to be born safely, at least until Maurice pointed out that they'd hardly been instrumental in the process, being newborns at the time. There was some call to meet the ones who had escaped to other countries and actually stayed there, and Honoria published an editorial in the next issue saying that she would do what she could to find and interview them.  
  
On his second Saturday back at Hogwarts, Teddy was awakened just before breakfast by a bright white light on his ceiling. He sat up, expecting possibly Corky's bear or Donzo's raccoon, with an idea to waste some time before serious homework started. Instead, the Patronus swirled uncertainly for a long time, then formed a shadowy outline of a long-eared cocker spaniel. Its mouth dropped open, but it didn't speak. It disappeared.  
  
A moment later, Corky's bear _did_ appear. "Sorry, Lupin, been trying to teach Honoria the charm, but she hasn't got it yet. She wants everyone to meet in the antechamber outside the Great Hall after breakfast. I have to send to the other dormitories now. How do you do this more than one at once?"  
  
The bear left.  
  
Teddy rubbed his eyes and rolled out of bed (Checkmate, who'd been sleeping on his pillow, gave a startled meow when it shifted and rolled her onto the mattress). He knew that the Patronus _could_ be sent to more than one place at once, but he'd never asked Uncle Harry how that was accomplished.  
  
By the time he got to the Great Hall, most of the other seventh years were there, looking cross and not terribly cooperative. There didn't seem any point in waiting until after breakfast, so they each took a bit of food and headed to the antechamber. Teddy remembered arriving here, that first night, when they'd realized how few of them there were. He remembered very little of what anyone had said, except that Geoffrey hadn't wanted to wear his robes, Donzo had been dropping names right and left, and that Oliver Wood had somehow used Quidditch to save a few of them.  
  
Without much fuss, they settled around the long table. They'd all met in here before--fifth year, the Hufflepuffs had led a drive to work together on a project assigned by Robards--and it had always felt to Teddy, somewhat obscurely, like _their_ room.  
  
Honoria and Corky were the last to arrive, and both were carrying several scrolls. Six quills poked out of the corner of Honoria's book bag.  
  
She sat down and smiled. "Well, we're all here."  
  
"I _was_ going to have a lie-in," Roger Young said. "I was up half the night helping Hagrid with some baby mokes for the third years."  
  
"Sorry," Honoria said. "But I thought if I waited, everyone would have got involved in homework."  
  
Tinny yawned. "Is there some reason we're here?"  
  
"I'm following up on Geoffrey's piece," Honoria said.  
  
"I can follow up my own piece!"  
  
She sighed. "I'm doing the human interest angle. Not your strong suit."  
  
"But--"  
  
"Why don't you use those well-honed research skills of yours to track down the ones who escaped? There's a lot of interest."  
  
Geoffrey grumbled, but settled in.  
  
"So," Honoria said, "I've already heard McCormack's story, and I've an owl out to his mum to get the rest of it--"  
  
Donzo sat up straight, suddenly quite awake. " _What?_ "  
  
She looked at him like he'd just given a long speech in an imaginary language, then said, "And now, I want to find out about the rest of you. I'm going to do profiles of each of us this year, but this will be different. This is the beginning."  
  
Jane Hunter raised her hand. "Is there some reason you need the Muggle-borns here? Geoff and Roger and Joe and Franklin and I don't really have any daring tales. Someone had already hidden the Hogwarts list, so no one came for us."  
  
"I want to stay and find out," Joe Palmer said.  
  
Franklin Driscoll nodded eagerly. "Me, too. It's interesting."  
  
"Ghoulish, is what it is," Maurice grumped.  
  
Connie Deverell stood up. "It's not." She bit her lip. "There were heroes. And I don't think they've really had enough of a thank you."  
  
"Oh, right," Geoffrey said. "I've noticed _so_ much ignoring of the war heroes."  
  
"So, you must have heard all about Oliver Wood," Connie said.  
  
"Some Quidditch idiot who was at the battle, right?"  
  
"He was at the battle," Connie said. "But the year before, he used the international Quidditch leagues to get people to safety."  
  
"Right!" Brendan Lynch, the third Slytherin boy--and no one's idea of a genius--stood up, looking more engaged than Teddy had ever seen him look. "My dad, he was Seeker for the Irish National Team, but he was Muggle-born. Married a pure-blood Slytherin girl, too, which meant that the Death Eaters really hated him. Only he didn't know it right off. He came to England on a trade that summer, to Puddlemere, just before everything went mad, and the Death Eaters were watching him, so we couldn't leave but--"  
  
"But Wood came through," Connie said.  
  
"Exactly." Brendan smiled. "Sneaked him out right under the Death Eaters' noses. Made a fake Snitch, and Dad followed it straight to a Bulgarian named Zolgrof, who said he was recruiting for Bulgaria, and he swept them right off to Sofia. That's where I was born."  
  
"Same story for me," Connie said. "But it ended in Tel Aviv. Amazing how many Quidditch recruiters happened to come in. The Ministry put up a horrible stink about them leaving, but they didn't want to misbehave _too_ much in front of the foreign Ministries. _Yet_. Wood got out a lot of people that way--some half-bloods and Muggle-borns, some people who'd just managed to tweak Voldemort's nose too much. And nobody knows it."  
  
"They will now," Honoria said.  
  
"What about _you_?" Jane asked. "You always said your parents just happened to be on holiday in Gib."  
  
Honoria looked oddly pleased to be asked. "Well, I, er... my dad, before he started defending accused criminals in front of the Wizengamot, he used to work for Rita Skeeter, doing research."  
  
"I'd think he'd've been in a good place then," Teddy said.  
  
"You would, wouldn't you? But then, you don't think much of Rita."  
  
Teddy didn't answer.  
  
Honoria shrugged. "Rita lives by her own set of rules. She'd had Dad researching Greyback's pack the year before everything went bad." She smiled sheepishly. "Er, Teddy, I should probably explain that he'd seen your dad in the pack that year. That's why he never was entirely sure what to think about... well, him not being in Greyback's pack."  
  
"Is _that_ what your problem was?  Your dad thought he was really with Greyback and just… what, faking?"  
  
"More or less. When I found out he'd been there rescuing people... well, Dad and I both felt a bit guilty."  
  
"You feel guilt?" Maurice asked, feigning shock.  
  
She made an obscene gesture at him, then went on. "As soon as Dumbledore died, Rita knew that things were going to go bad. She hadn't been seen doing any research herself, but Dad had. She knew a man in Gibraltar, and she asked him to let my parents stay there until she called them back. Said it was for research, but there was never any book from it, and Dad changed careers anyway. That's why Rita's my godmother."  
  
Teddy swallowed. "Oh. Well, then... go, Rita, and I'm sorry for... well, not everything, she is a nasty piece of work, but, er... well, I'm glad she did something good for your family."  
  
"How generous of you," Honoria said. "Do you understand now why I want to tell these stories?"  
  
No one put up an argument, though Geoffrey rolled his eyes.  
  
A flicker of motion caught Teddy's eye, and he looked down to the end of the table, where Laura Chapman was sitting, pale and serious-looking. She was raising a shaking hand.  
  
"What is it, Laura?" he asked.  
  
"I... well, could I tell a story, too? I have a story."  
  
"That's sort of the point," Corky said, smiling at her fondly. (She had been his first girlfriend, and once the nastiness of the break-up had disappeared, they'd got along capitally.) "Go on."

Laura took a deep breath, then said, "No one really knows this. It's not at all daring, like Connie's and Brendan's, or... well, you know... _surprising_ like Honoria's. It's just... well, it's why they left on time in the first place, more than being rescued. And they weren't brave. They didn't come back or whatnot."  
  
"Lots of people didn't fight," Tinny assured her.  
  
"Right." Laura nodded to herself, then said, "My mother never was really talented at magic. She... well, she could do a thing or two, she's not a Squib, but she... well, let's say, she wasn't in line to succeed Albus Dumbledore." She smiled. "I guess I'm not really, either. I only stayed after O.W.L.s because, well, it didn't seem right to leave you lot, make the year any smaller. I didn't want to leave Tinny all alone in our room."  
  
Tinny laughed. "Right, you never know what sort of mischief I'd have done."  
  
"Well, who'd have got you to remember to brush your hair before class?"  
  
"A good point."  
  
"Didn't you say you had a story?" Honoria prodded.  
  
Laura nodded. "Yes. As I was saying, Mum was never very good at magic. Or at her other classes. She quit after O.W.L.s, and she was working at the Leaky Cauldron for a few months. She took the tube back and forth to work, and... well, she saw an advertisement for a school that would teach her to be a model, and she thought that sounded like better work. She was very, very pretty. And she did well in that school, and she got Muggle modeling jobs, and she was making quite a good living when she met my dad. He was a photographer. They fell in love and got married, and then she told him everything. He was very understanding. He became her agent, and he took her all over the world to take her picture. She was even on the cover of a Muggle magazine once.  
  
"Unfortunately, it was the month before Dumbledore died. I guess she offended the Death Eaters. There was a knock at the door one night, and she opened it, and there was a curse in her face. A curse _on_ her face. Dad had just arranged a shoot in Italy, and he used the tickets to get her out of the country, but of course she couldn't very well be photographed again. They stayed there anyway, trying to think of what to do. Then she got pregnant, and that's why I was born in Milan. And why no one sees my mum much. She doesn't like people looking at her."  
  
"I'll have to--" Honoria started.  
  
Joe Palmer stood up and said, "If you say, 'get a picture,' I'll break the camera."  
  
"--get her permission to share it," Honoria said coolly.  
  
"And we'll all pretend to believe that's what you meant to say," Roger said, leaning protectively toward Laura.  
  
Honoria rolled her eyes and said, "Hufflepuffs." She shook her head. "Which brings us to Gudgeon. If I recall the first time we met in this room, you're the only one of the wizard-born who was actually born in the country--except for Lupin, and we all know _his_ story."  
  
Tinny looked up, mildly surprised. "I don't really have a story. My parents were carefully avoiding having a story."  
  
"Which is, in itself, a story."  
  
"No, it's really not." Tinny looked around. "What do you want me to say? My parents worked at the Ministry. I think my mum was copying off those damned pamphlets that Umbridge kept distributing. Dad had a little booth where the lot of them took lunch. They didn't fight, they didn't rebel, and they didn't do anything other than stay alive as well as they could, and keep me alive." She looked at Teddy, and looked away guiltily.  
  
"It's all right," he said. "Sometimes, I wish mine had."  
  
"No you don't. You wish they'd lived, but you don't wish they'd done nothing. My parents always wish they'd done something, or at least showed up for the battle, but they didn't find out about it until the next morning."  
  
The room was quiet, then Corky said, "You know, Tinny, except for Teddy's, _none_ of our parents showed up for it."  
  
"Yours weren't even in the country."  
  
"No, mine were as far away from it as they could get. I just think--well, there are a lot of people who weren't there, and people might find themselves feeling less isolated if someone reminded them that they weren't the only ones."  
  
"Let me talk to them before you write anything," Tinny said. "They're not entirely proud of what they--well, _didn't_ do."  
  
"Fair enough," Honoria said. "That brings us around to Corky."  
  
"Genuinely no story," Corky said. "My mother's from Birmingham, but she'd married my dad years before the war, and they were living in Ontario when the world exploded over here. They weren't planning to relocate anyway. No great story of why they didn't. My sister says she remembers sometimes hearing her yelling at the _Daily Prophet_ when it came--Tess was four, and I guess it scared her--but that's as close as we ever got to the war."  
  
"Closer than _we_ did," Maurice said.  
  
"I actually always did wonder about that," Lizzie said. "My lot left when things went bad in Diagon Alley--no customers for the shop--but Why should a family with a Knockturn Alley shop be afraid of Death Eaters? Why _were_ you halfway around the world?"  
  
"My dad never worked in the shop," Maurice said crossly. "His cousin Veradisia did. Her dad and my grandfather were brothers, and my grandfather didn't want the shop, either, at least as I heard it, and--"  
  
"You don't need to get angry," Lizzie said. "I didn't say you were Dark Arts dealers, though, technically, don't you own--"  
  
"What Maurice owns and doesn't own isn't your business," Donzo said.  
  
Maurice ground his teeth, then said. "Fine. My grandfather and his brother both died in the first war. Voldemort had them killed by henchmen in front of my great grandfather. He probably would have killed my dad and my cousin if my grandmother hadn't got them away."  
  
"Why?" Teddy asked.  
  
"We didn't know. Not until after the second war, when the books started coming out. First, my great-grandfather, Caractacus Burke, cheated Tom Riddle's mother on the price of a locket--"  
  
"Slytherin's locket?"  
  
Maurice nodded. "According to the books, he only paid her ten galleons for it. And Lord Voldemort would have known that, because back when he was Tom Riddle, he got a job--probably underpaid--for Caractacus.  He was doing what my cousin Veradisia ended up doing, trying to get people to sell their trinkets." He wrinkled his nose. "And this isn't in the books, but I know the family. If Caractacus Burke got it in his head that Tom Riddle was a half-blood, he'd have likely tormented him about it.  
  
"But, like I said, we didn't know the why of any of it at the time. Death Eaters wouldn't have, either; they were probably just thinking they might rob us. As soon as Cedric Diggory died, and Dumbledore started saying Voldemort was back, my Dad decided to get as much ocean as he could between himself and England--to go someplace as obscure as he could find where a young English couple wouldn't seem out of place. New Zealand and Australia had too many very casual contacts, and he knew too many people there, so he apparently threw a dart, and landed us in Stanley, in the Falklands. I think my parents might have been the only wizards. I was born there a couple of years later, and Wendell got there a couple of years after that. Then we came back. End of story." He gave a practiced, disinterested shrug.  
  
"Wow," Donzo said after a while. "My business manager is descended from Voldemort's boss."  
  
To Teddy's surprise, Maurice grinned. "Keep that in mind the next time you even think about not taking my advice."  
  
There was some nervous laughter at this.  
  
Honoria looked at the scrolls she'd brought--Teddy had been listening to stories, and hadn't noticed the quills scribbling things down--and said, "Well, I have letters to write, permissions to gather, interviews to do..."  
  
"Do you plan on trying homework at any point?" Corky asked.  
  
"This _is_ my homework," Honoria said. "The _Prophet_ won't care that much about my marks, as long as I pass, but they'll want to see _this_."  
  
"You're giving it to the _Prophet_?" Tinny asked, alarmed.  
  
"Well, it's going into the _Charmer_ , and Rita subscribes. Maybe she'll pick it up."  
  
"But--"  
  
"I said I'd ask permission," Honoria told her. "Honestly. I shouldn't even have to, it's news, but I will."  
  
Tinny didn't look reassured.  
  
"Wonderful," Geoffrey said, standing up, disgusted. "So glad you dragged us all out of bed for this. I'm sure the rest of we Muggle-borns were glad to get your lesson in the selfless bravery of your forebears, the--"  
  
His speech was interrupted by a hard thud, as he was spun around and knocked over a chair, revealing Franklin Driscoll standing beside him, his fist still raised.  
  
Franklin looked at him with great hate and said, "You don't speak for the rest of us, Phillips. And it's about bloody time someone got that through your thick skull."  
  
Jane, Joe, and Roger came over to flank him.  
  
Geoffrey got up, looking untroubled. "Didn't claim to speak for _you_. But I'm not just speaking for myself, either." He straightened his robes and sauntered out.  
  
Jane rolled her eyes extravagantly and said, "Pity, really, that he's so shy and unassuming. However are we meant to guess how he feels?"

After the meeting, Teddy spent most of the morning trying to concentrate on his Potions assignment--not the full created potion, but an analysis of each ingredient in his new supply--then worked for a little while on his other classes.  
  
All the while, the stories he'd heard tugged at him--the insanity of having a child that year, when everything was falling apart, when there was always the danger of... well, of what had actually happened. And it had followed immediately on a rushed and pressured marriage, and--  
  
He took out his calendar, counted months.  
  
"Teddy?"  
  
He looked up.  
  
Mum was watching him from the portrait, one eyebrow raised. "Something caught your interest?"  
  
He bit his lip. "Can I ask you something personal?"  
  
"Judging by your study material, I can guess what."  
  
"Well, can I ask?" He sighed. "I don't know. I suppose you might not know. But I keep subtracting, and get mid-July, and that had to be really close to your wedding, but was it before or after... I mean, not that it matters, but... Well, I always heard the story that you had to get married because of the werewolf laws."  
  
"That would be the true story," Mum said carefully.  
  
"Then it wasn't because..."  
  
"I didn't even know until the end of July. We'd just found out before Bill and Fleur's wedding on the first of August. I was so happy, and your father was so terrified!" She shook her head. "Wouldn't have risked a mad Harry-rescue a few days earlier if I had known.  I never would have knowingly put you in danger."  
  
"Oh."  
  
The portrait frowned at him. "Why the sudden interest in that, of all things? You've been able to count months for quite a long time, and you must have realized how close it was."  
  
"I just, I was thinking, well, that it was"--he winced and looked away--"a bit mad to decide to have a baby that year."  
  
Mum laughed. "It would have been an incredibly mad decision, had we actually decided it. I'm afraid you weren't carefully planned out, Teddy. You just happened. Thank God, because if you hadn't, there'd be nothing left."  
  
The portrait said this lightly, of course. It had no particular feelings of its own, and it always adopted Mum's more amusing and friendly sides, but Teddy had met her, somewhere between worlds, and he knew the bitter regrets that had informed the sentiment. He touched the portrait frame. "Well," he said, "there's something left."  
  
She smiled at him fondly, then changed her hair to a sensible black, brought it up short, and mimed putting on specs. She sat down at the table and said, "So, young Teddy, why _have_ you started wondering about the year in which you were first anticipated?"  
  
"My friends in my year--the wizard-born, anyway--all seem to have got away from people trying to stop them from being born. But you were more wanted than any of them, and you knew what was going on."  
  
"Which made me considerably safer than people who didn't. I kept far away from St. Mungo's, and your Granny was there watching me, in case anything went wrong."  
  
There was motion at the edge of the frame, and Dad slid in. "Looks like a serious subject," he said.  
  
"Teddy wants to know if we were living in sin and precisely how mad we were," Mum said.  
  
"What?" Dad asked, as Teddy said, "I didn't say that!"  
  
"Just translating," Mum said.  
  
"It's not a translation," Teddy told Dad. "I swear, I was just asking. I don't even really know _what_ I was asking. Mum said she was safer than other witches that year because she knew what was going on."  
  
"And I had your dad to keep me safe while I kept you safe."  
  
"Once I got my head screwed on straight," Dad muttered. "And not when it really mattered, as it turned out."  
  
Mum looked at him sharply. "We've heard quite enough about the first part of that, and as to the second, I didn't give you the option. I should've, but I didn't." She turned back to Teddy. "Once I knew about you, you were never in danger. I'd've never let anything happen to you."  
  
He nodded. "All the others, though..."  
  
"We did everything we could. Lee Jordan put out warnings, but of course, you had to know where to find his show. Sanjiv made posters, but they were taken down immediately. Before Maddie was forced out of the Department of Mysteries, she tried to get people to run rather than coming in to hearings, if she saw who was scheduled to be brought in. And Daffy went undercover mopping floors at St. Mungo's, trying to stop things. It only helped if he actually happened to be there at the time. Twenty women subjected to that were quite a lot, but in terms of the number of patients and the times they might or might not have been there..."  
  
"Tarot poker," Teddy said. "You never know what you'll be holding in a given hand."  
  
Dad nodded. "That's the shape of it, Teddy. I wish it were something less messy."  
  
Mum smirked. "I've noticed that our boy does appreciate things that are more ordered and meticulous and--"  
  
"Alphabetized by color?" Dad said, and winked.  
  
Teddy blushed again, but it was a more normal one. Victoire had organized his things two years ago, and he'd carefully kept it up because he rather liked living in her well-designed world. Mum and Dad had prised this out of him while he'd set up his room last year. But it wasn't what they were insinuating. Victoire was practically family. "I see we've dropped any serious subject," he said.  
  
"You spend too much time thinking about serious subjects," Mum said. "Get out of your head. We're lacking a girlfriend this year, and your dad hates to go back to Grayfur without gossip."  
  
"You--?"  
  
"I do not gossip with Phineas Nigellus."  
  
"Right, darling, I'm sure it's just a consultation on the needs of Hogwarts students, teacher to teacher."  
  
Teddy laughed, and let them continue discussing old Grayfur--who _was_ an inveterate gossip, whether he admitted it or not--while he settled back into his Charms homework.  
  
His schedule became grueling over the next three weeks, and there was no time to speculate on the events of the year he'd been born. The other students, equally burdened, lost all but the most cursory interest in the subject, though Honoria's announcement of a series to come on the various seventh years was the cause for a day or two of eager speculations among the younger students. But Teddy's time was taken up with the properties of mallowsweet, the ethics of crystal scrying, a doomed attempt to Transfigure wands into other objects which would still maintain the magical power of wands, and, of course, Robards' ever dwindling supply of new clues in the murders of Goyle and Runcorn.  
  
The Aurors had been able to definitively link them when a Healer had examined Goyle's body (this, according to a letter from Ruthless, had been the idea of her new boyfriend, Sam Cresswell). They'd found another needle, this one pushed into his belly through his belly button. The message had been the same. Teddy could make a connection--just as Goyle had been part of the rule of the fist, he'd also been something of a glutton--but it got him nowhere nearer to the murderer.  
  
The second Saturday in October, it rained miserably outside, turning Hogwarts into a slush of mud and slippery rocks and grass. Students found places inside to work. The library was too crowded, so Teddy and several of his friends had retreated to Firenze's classroom--comfortably set up as a forest glade--to work on their various projects. Story Shacklebolt and Victoire were near a window, working on Umbrella Charms; Corky and Honoria were meant to be working on Potions, but didn't seem to be getting much done, unless they were designing something to make them snuggle and laugh softly a lot. Teddy, Donzo, and Maurice were working Defense theory. Robards' mild Tongue-Tying hex kept them from working on real clues, but in a way, this was helpful, as the pressure of dealing with a real crime made it easier to go on flights of unexpected thought. It was also good because Maurice's brother was hovering about.  
  
"So are there artifacts that can get past security?" Teddy asked Maurice.  
  
"Probably, but that sort of thing leaves traces, so someone would find something afterward."  
  
"I'll bet there are clean ones," Wendell said. "Veradisia said that there was always going to be something that could get through anything..."  
  
"Well, if Borgin finds it, I'm sure he'll stock it beside the self-spelling wands."  
  
"Maybe _I'll_ find it."  
  
"Dad's going to sell our interest in the place back to Borgin."  
  
Wendell set his jaw. "I told him not to."  
  
"Yes, and I'm sure he's going to hold onto that curse-trap just because--"  
  
"It's ours!"  
  
"Not mine," Maurice said, and looked down at his Defense book again. "What if you needed something from one crime to get to the next one? Like, he had to take something."  
  
"Something would have to be missing from the first one," Donzo said.  
  
Wendell flopped down beside Maurice. "Well, just because _you_ don't want it doesn't mean Dad won't listen to _me_. I'll be of age sooner or later, and Veradisia says..."  
  
"Said," Maurice corrected. "She _said._ Before the bloody hell-shop killed her."  
  
"It didn't kill her, she decided to let me live."  
  
"Fine. Before it _tried_ to kill both of you. Dad's selling our interest."  
  
"Don, what do you think?" Wendell asked. "Maurice always listens to you."  
  
Donzo looked momentarily stunned, then said, "I, er, think that's Burke family business."  
  
"Which brings us back to the Dark Arts," Maurice said. "How _would_ you get into a place with security like Hogwarts if you weren't invited in? At least without leaving any trace of it."  
  
"Tunnels?" Donzo suggested. "They blast tunnels under there all the time. Maybe there's a sneaky route in through the Muggle tunnels for the tube.   That wouldn't leave any magical trace."  
  
"I doubt the protections are careless enough for an accidental blast-through," Teddy said. "But maybe someone could have deliberately..." He wrinkled his nose. "No, that doesn't work at all. They'd have to be inside to dig the tunnel, or know where to dig it to."  
  
"Tunnels?" someone said at the classroom door.  
  
Teddy looked up.  
  
Uncle Harry grinned. "Well, I told you I was expecting the seventh years to impress me."


	8. Family Gossip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry arrives for his annual teaching stint, and catches up with the ideas Teddy and his friends have come up with about the murder, then the family gets together for supper.

"Mr. Potter," Donzo said, standing up. "We were, er... well, that is to say, working on--"  
  
"I know what Robards has you working on, and it's with my blessing." Uncle Harry looked around. "And you know something? I'm not a Hogwarts professor. Anyone in the room who's of age and doesn't normally call me 'uncle' can just call me 'Harry' when we're not actually in class." He held out his hand to Donzo.  
  
Donzo shook it. "Well, we can try anyway... Harry." He shuddered theatrically. "That'll take some practice."  
  
"Are you here to teach?" Teddy asked.  
  
"Do you even _read_ the _Charmer_?" Honoria asked, coming forward. "Honestly, Lupin, I wrote an article last Friday about Mr... er, Harry... coming back this week. Though I didn't think he was due until Monday."  
  
"I wanted to meet with Robards," Uncle Harry said. "I was going to talk to the seventh years in class, but as long as I've a handful of you here, I'd love to join the conversation."  
  
"Does that mean that those of us not seventh years need to leave?" Story Shacklebolt asked.  
  
Uncle Harry considered it. "Probably a good idea. Your dad could explain why. But Professor Longbottom has been kind enough to let me meet with family later in greenhouse two--why don't you come down with Victoire and her sisters?"  
  
"What time?" Victoire asked.  
  
"Six o'clock. We'll have supper, catch up on news as long as I'm here. Don't forget your cousin Molly!"  
  
"Oh, Marie will be thrilled," Victoire said. She gathered her things into her book bag. "Six o'clock, then," she said, and led Story out.  
  
Maurice tugged Wendell gently around and said, "You too."  
  
Wendell, nothing if not dogged, had not, apparently, decided to drop his side of the argument. "I'm writing to Dad and telling him not to," he said, narrowing his eyes.  
  
"I'll loan you a quill, as it won't do you any good, anyway." Maurice frowned at him impressively.  
  
Wendell took a proffered quill and headed out.  
  
Uncle Harry tapped the door with his wand, and Teddy felt a knot in his mind loosen up.  
  
"We have checked for tunnels," Uncle Harry said. "There used to be quite a few coming and going from Hogwarts, and of course, there are a lot under London. There's no sign of magical or Muggle tunneling near Platform Nine and Three-Quarters."  
  
"Oh," Donzo said, disappointed.  
  
"But it took us time to get to that. It's a good thought." He Conjured a chair and sat down. "Let's hear what else you have."  
  
"You want help from students?" Honoria asked, dumbfounded. "With the entire Auror division at your disposal--"  
  
"Everyone needs perspective now and then," Uncle Harry said. "It's easy to get in a rut of thinking, and asking people who've been outside our circle may well be useful. You're advanced students, and you're doing well, as I understand it. I seem to recall occasionally having been useful when I was a student."  
  
Corky tried to Conjure a chair for himself, but none of them had been very consistent with major Conjuring yet. Instead, he Transfigured a low rock and sat down. "Are we thinking good guy or bad guy?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The killer," Corky said. "He's killing Voldemort's people. So--good guy or bad guy?"  
  
Uncle Harry looked nonplused. "Generally, when someone is cutting off body parts, I lean toward 'bad.'"  
  
"He means in the war," Maurice clarified. "Are you looking at Voldemort's side or yours?"  
  
"Why would Voldemort's people kill Runcorn and Goyle?" Honoria asked.  
  
"He did like body part spells," Maurice said. "I've read the _Quibbler_ interview you did"--he looked at Uncle Harry--"and... could they be trying to bring him back?"  
  
Uncle Harry looked quite disturbed, then said, "There was something else that made that work."  
  
"Did _they_ know what it was?" Maurice sat forward, looking compact and coiled. "It could be someone who knows the framework from the same article I read, but not the background magic. Let's say it's someone who killed Runcorn, then got Goyle to sacrifice himself, and next--"  
  
"One problem," Teddy said. "No body parts missing."  
  
"There wasn't enough blood from Runcorn," Maurice pointed out. "They could have some of his blood. And maybe something from Goyle's innards. And maybe they'll try to do what Pettigrew did."  
  
"It wouldn't work," Uncle Harry told him. "But... I actually think your logic may not be wrong. It's not necessarily the case, but it's a nasty idea that actually hadn't occurred to us."  
  
"Maurice is full of nasty ideas," Corky said.  
  
"As long as they're likely to cast suspicion on old Slytherin families that embarrass him," Honoria said.  
  
"So poke holes in his theory," Uncle Harry said.  
  
"Well, for starters," she said, "we have to go back to breaking the security. I'm guessing some of Voldemort's followers are out, but are they _really_ unwatched enough to break the security at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters?"  
  
"No one ought to be that unwatched," Uncle Harry said. "On either side. Go on."  
  
"Professor Robards said a Healer had examined Goyle's body. Was anything at all missing?"  
  
"Nothing anyone noticed."  
  
"Who was the Healer?"  
  
"Mehadi Patil. And I did put the tongue-tying hex on the door, so--"  
  
"--so no story. At least not until it's solved." Honoria bit her lip. "I do understand that, actually. I'd rather not, but I do. We don't want to tell the killer what we're looking at, or if we're getting close." She shook her head, then went on. "Anyway, what about the needle messages? Those aren't from someone who wants Voldemort back. They're from someone who thinks the punishment was too light for the crime."  
  
"Could be a smokescreen," Maurice said.  
  
"Let's stop talking about _who_ ," Teddy said. "Let's get back to _how_. That might lead to who -- more likely than the pair of you having a go at each other again, anyway." He twirled his wand, and the notes he'd been taking throughout the year spread themselves out in the air. He pulled in a blank sheet and began to gather the notes together. "We know that there are no tunnels now. An artifact would have left a trace--Uncle Harry, did they find _any_ trace magic?"  
  
Uncle Harry smiled faintly. "I don't suppose another round of begging would convince you to change your career plans?" Teddy shook his head, and Uncle Harry rolled his eyes. "No, nothing."  
  
"Maybe Goyle opened it himself," Donzo suggested, "and let the murderer in with him."  
  
"He didn't have the security clearance. Someone from magical law enforcement is meant to open it on the London end. That's what I'd sent Sam and Ruth to do when they found him."  
  
Teddy wrote down, _No evidence of magical break-in,_ then asked, "Was it open any time before?"  
  
It hadn't been, and the next hour was spent in the most frustrating manner Teddy could imagine--no one's ideas fit the evidence, nothing seemed to be gained, and no brilliant insights were arrived at. Uncle Harry nevertheless took note of all of their ideas ("You never know which might mix with someone else's and come up with the right answer") and didn't seem disappointed in them. By the time they finished, the sky outside was inky black, and rain had stopped streaming down the windows.  
  
"It's nearly six," Uncle Harry said. "Teddy and I have an appointment." He stood and Vanished his chair. "I'd like to thank the lot of you--good insights, and we'll talk more in class, though I'm expected to be the one imparting wisdom there, so I suppose I should come up with some."  
  
They all said goodbye, and Teddy went with Uncle Harry to the greenhouses.  
  
"What are Maurice and his brother arguing about?" Uncle Harry asked as they walked.  
  
"The shop. I don't know it all. Maurice wants to burn it to the ground, and Wendell wants to keep it for some reason."  
  
Uncle Harry looked up at him, surprised. "For some reason? I thought you, of all people, would understand wanting to hold on to something for no reason other than its being part of family history."  
  
"That's a good point. I guess I'm just so used to Maurice hating it like poison, I didn't think about it that way." Teddy remembered the thrall that the Shrieking Shack had held him in during his third year, even though it had been horribly haunted for him, then said, "Maybe I should teach Wendell a good Blasting Curse."  
  
Uncle Harry laughed. "I don't even want to think of what would happen if Borgin and Burke's just exploded. Perhaps a less violent end to the place is called for."  
  
"Maurice would find that deeply unsatisfying."  
  
They rounded a bend, and greenhouse two came into sight, glittering in the black night. Teddy could see that Victoire was already here--she was on a ladder at the front of the greenhouse, doing something with the roots of a climbing vine, and a breathtaking length of her leg was visible from this angle. She looked down and waved, and he looked away, not wanting her to guess what he was seeing.  
  
A second later, the greenhouse door opened, and little Molly Weasley--who looked considerably more like a little, female _Arthur_ Weasley, with less of a sense of humor, if truth were told--beckoned them inside.

Uncle Harry had brought food from home. Al and James had apparently been baking, as they'd provided lumpy loaves of bread shaped vaguely like an owl and a cat. (These looked daunting, but actually tasted perfectly all right.) The elder Molly Weasley had sent a rich stew, and Fleur had contributed French pastries. They ate around a table Teddy Conjured, which, for a miracle, held for the whole length of the meal. Professor Longbottom and his wife, Hannah (toward whom he seemed to be quite attentive at the moment) joined them about halfway through.  
  
The meal was comfortable and warm, and Uncle Harry brought quite a lot of family gossip with him. Aunt Ginny was writing a feature called "Quidditch In Paradise," and the Potters would be using this as an excuse to travel to Bermuda next spring. Uncle Harry hoped that the case would be solved by then, but Ron had apparently brow-beaten him into agreeing to take a holiday whether it was or not. Ellsworth had given Granny a kitten, which she'd tried to give back--she hadn't owned a cat of her own since Greyback had killed old Bludger--but he wouldn't take it back, and she'd apparently got quite attached to it. She called him Twist, after _Oliver Twist_ , to match Granddad's childhood cat, Dodger. Arthur and Molly were planning to visit Charlie in Romania for a few months, and were practicing speaking Romanian at every opportunity (Professor Longbottom speculated that Molly meant to try to get one of the local girls to marry Charlie). Percy was arguing in front of the Wizengamot about substandard charms, and George was introducing a new line of dolls which were improved versions of Lily's favorite doll, Megrez.  
  
Uncle Harry demanded school stories in return, which turned into a bit of one-upsmanship between the Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors. This caused a great deal of eye-rolling between Marie and Molly, each of whom claimed the other was exaggerating about pranks pulled in the great Gryffindor-Ravenclaw war. Story and Victoire, who commanded the troops, declared jointly that they were hereby forbidden from hexing one another, as it was obviously no longer in good fun.  
  
"Nothing _she_ does is in good fun," Marie muttered mutinously.  
  
"Hush," Victoire said, and shoved a pastry in Marie's mouth. She turned to Uncle Harry. "How's Maman's inn coming along?"  
  
"Fleur has an inn?" Teddy asked.  
  
Victoire turned to him, surprised. "Didn't I tell you?" She frowned. "I guess not. You haven't been talking to me very much this year."  
  
Aimee reached in and ladled herself more stew. "Mum's trying to get more wizarding tourists to Tinworth, but they don't have anywhere to stay. So she's building a new inn."  
  
"She's not _personally_ building it," Victoire said. "She's hired Nate Blondin and his crew to build it. I guess that's why I thought you knew. Neil and Celia talk about it all the time. Aren't you brewing Wolfsbane Potion for them?"  
   
"Well, yes, but I hadn't really talked to them much. They just come and drink it and pretend to gag."  
  
"Having smelled that stuff," Story said, "I don't think they're pretending."  
  
Marie swallowed the pastry she'd been force-fed and said, "Anyway, I don't know what Mum thinks they're going to do. It's Tinworth. Nothing ever happened there." She thought about it. "Well, except at our house, and she doesn't want them _there._ "  
  
"What happened at _your_ house?" Molly asked. "I thought it was protected."  
  
"Clearly," Uncle Harry said, "Marie is referring to the fact that it was in that very spot that the birth of Teddy Lupin was first announced to the world at large."  
  
Teddy rolled his eyes. "Right. I'm sure that's it."  
  
"And speaking of happy announcements, I believe there is another reason we wanted to gather family and friends." Uncle Harry looked at Professor Longbottom. "You said you wanted to tell them when the gathering wasn't suspicious."  
  
Professor Longbottom grinned at Hannah, then turned to the students. "I want the lot of you to know before the rest of the school, because your families are close to me, and you'll certainly find out, but I didn't want to make a general announcement in the Great Hall. I'm sure it will get around eventually, of course, but before the _Prophet_ makes it general knowledge--"  
  
Hannah raised an eyebrow. "Darling, they're going to make it general knowledge before you actually get around to saying it at this rate."  
  
"We're having a baby," Professor Longbottom said.  
  
Victoire clapped and smiled brightly. "That's wonderful! Oh, I'm going to plant an aethracandia for Hannah--"  
  
"I already did!" Professor Longbottom said.  
  
"Oh, well... I'll plant something else, then. A tree. I think I shall plant a tree for every baby in the family from now on."  
  
"Are you actually related?" Story asked.  
  
Victoire shrugged. "Somewhere, I'm sure, but even if we aren't, family isn't just blood."  
  
Professor Longbottom smiled fondly. "And where do you intend to plant this forest?"  
  
"I don't know yet," Victoire said.  
  
"You can have Screech Hill," Teddy told her without thinking about it.  
  
She turned and blinked her huge, china blue eyes at him. "What?"  
  
Teddy frowned, uncomfortably aware that everyone was looking at him. "Screech Hill," he said. "Where the Shrieking Shack used to be."  
  
"I know what it is, but it's yours."  
  
"Which, er..." He looked at everyone. "Well, doesn't that give me the right to tell you that you can plant trees on it?" Uncle Harry's mouth was twitching toward a smile. Teddy shook his head. " _What?_ "  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Good, because there's nothing. Victoire wants to plant a tree for a new Longbottom, and I think it's a grand idea. Welcome, new Longbottom." Teddy waved at Hannah's belly.  
  
"I'm learning to knit from Nana Weasley," Molly said. "I shall knit a blanket."  
  
"And I'll make lots of baby clothes," Marie said. "I made Muriel a very cute dress..."  
  
"I'll help Hannah at the Cauldron this summer," Aimee said. "If you want help by then--"  
  
"I'm sure I will," Hannah said, looking both pleased and somewhat alarmed at the ferocious affection.  
  
The conversation turned to a long celebration of the upcoming arrival of the Longbottoms' firstborn, and by the time Professor Longbottom reminded the students that curfew was almost upon them, Teddy felt lightheaded from happiness. They left together, leaving the adults back in the greenhouses. Teddy fell behind the group to walk with Victoire. Her hair was glowing faintly in the starlight (clouds hid the moon), and her cheeks were flushed.   
  
She looked back, then hugged herself giddily. "Isn't it wonderful?"  
  
Teddy nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."  
  
She stopped and turned her face up to the sky, smiling brilliantly. "I can't wait to plant the tree. I think it should be something wonderful."  
  
"A Whomping Willow? Lotus tree? Yggdrasil itself?"  
  
She ignored him. "Oak, I think. No, an evergreen. Spruce."  
  
"Spruce is wonderful?"  
  
"Or maybe a hazel. Hazel is for wisdom."  
  
She turned as the clouds parted, and the faint star-glow became brilliant, and Teddy might have agreed with her if she'd said she meant to plant a dandelion field because, after all, Gryffindors were dandy lions. He turned away and rubbed his face vigorously, ignoring her odd look. "Well, if you're going to start planting trees on Screech Hill, I guess I should start getting it cleaned up. There's still a lot of glass and such up there, and a rose bush that I think may have a plan for world domination."  
  
"Are you sure you want to let me start planting trees there? You might want to build a house there someday."  
  
Teddy shook his head. "No. I'll never live there. Not after everything that's happened." He shrugged and started walking again. "But a forest would be good. With the size of the Weasley family, it'll join up with the Forbidden Forest in a couple of generations."  
  
"Well, thanks." She caught up with him. "I'll help you clear it out. Can we work on it during Hogsmeade weekend?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
They reached the castle--the others had got quite far ahead--and Victoire put her hand on his arm as he went to open the door. "Teddy?"  
  
"What?"  
  
" _Why_ haven't we been talking much this year?"  
  
He took a deep breath and turned to look at her. Her face was troubled. He reached over and pushed her hair behind her ear. "Well, I..." He bit his lip. His hand was still resting on her face. "I, er..."  
  
With a huge thump, the door opened. Molly and Marie spilled out, pulling each other's hair.  
  
"Victoire!" Molly yelled. "Tell her to stop!"  
  
"She started it!"  
  
"I did not!"  
  
Victoire stepped away from Teddy, then took each of them by the shoulder and pulled them apart. "Do you think I care who started it?" She pushed them inside. "Honestly, the pair of you! You're cousins. Let it go, will you? D'you think I've got nothing better to do than keep you from killing each other...?"  
  
Teddy watched her as she disappeared up the stairs, then went inside.

He wandered the halls for a long time, hoping to give the Weasley situation (both Weasley situations, he supposed) time to resolve itself. He guessed it couldn't do any harm to tell Victoire that he'd been thinking she was beautiful lately. They might even laugh over the awkwardness of it. It wasn't like the subject had never come up before. She'd conned him into a kiss a couple of years ago, and she'd followed him around a little last year. It was nothing, just a crush--a little odd, as the Weasleys were distinctly in the large circle Teddy considered his family, but nothing _new_.  
  
Yes, she'd probably laugh.  
  
She was waiting alone in the Common Room when he returned, and she stood up awkwardly. "Teddy?"  
  
He smiled. "Good night, Vicky."  
  
A sofa pillow flew at him over his use of the hated nickname, and he ducked and headed for the boys' staircase. Something yanked the back of his jacket. He turned.  
  
Victoire's wand was still raised. "Do you want-- Are you in--" She ground her teeth, then rolled her eyes and headed for the girls' dormitories. "Good night, Teddy."  
  
The conversation didn't come any closer.  
  
The next day, Uncle Harry started his classes, which always caused excitement in the school. Teddy himself had always liked the classes. Uncle Harry brought several scrolls of evidence and depositions to the seventh year Defense Class to discuss the case. He told them about several exhausted leads. Jane raised her hand tentatively.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Er... not cast aspersions or anything, but... well, an Auror's badge gets you into a lot of places..."  
  
"Everyone in the Division was questioned, and everyone has an alibi."  
  
"Oh, sorry."  
  
"What kind of alibis?" Teddy asked. "I mean, are they solid? I know some of them live alone."  
  
"None of them happened to be alone at the time of Goyle's murder."  
  
Teddy started to push further, then stopped, something dropping unpleasantly in his stomach. Ruthless lived alone. Goyle's murder had been in the middle of the night. She had an older boyfriend. Who also lived alone and had to have had someone with him.  
  
He didn't have anything else productive to add that day. Victoire sat with him in the Common Room that night and didn't ask what was wrong. After an hour or so, they picked up a chess game, and fell into a more normal way of relating to each other.  
  
Uncle Harry stayed for two days, and refused to answer questions about Ruthless when Teddy asked them directly, which Teddy considered an answer. He started to write her a letter about it, but when he read it over, he was rather horrified at the whining, intrusive tone it took, so he threw it away.  
  
October grew cold and crisp as Halloween approached, and with it, the first Hogsmeade weekend of Teddy's last year. Victoire rushed up to him the day before and asked if they could work at Screech Hill, if he had no other plans. As he hadn't even thought about asking any of the girls to go into town with him, he agreed. They started off with the earliest group the next morning, getting most of the way into Hogsmeade before Victoire finally spoke.  
  
"Is the gate locked?" she asked.  
  
Teddy nodded. "Don't worry. I always have the key."  
  
"I haven't been there since... you know, that night with Greyback."  
  
"I remember." He smiled at her over his shoulder, though he didn't really feel like smiling. "I think that every time someone asks about you, I want to introduce you as the girl who ran at Fenrir Greyback with a handful of kitchen knives."  
  
She looked away, a little embarrassed. "Teddy, I barely remember doing that. I was just so angry."  
  
"Remind me never to make you mad."   
  
"Have you been back?"  
  
"A couple of times. It's a real mess. I couldn't figure out where to start attacking it. Pulled some wood over that I might keep and use in another house--someplace else--sometime, but I just couldn't seem to get a handle on it." They reached the gate at the base of Screech Hill, and Teddy reached out toward the gate post. A set of iron keys appeared. "Uncle Harry charmed them so I'd never lose them," he explained, unlocking it and turning off the protections that the lock cast.   
  
Inside of them, he could see the real extent of the damage, which was masked by several of the protection spells. He'd blown the house apart with a Blasting Curse, and the hill was strewn with broken wood and shattered glass. Parts of the frame had been heavy enough to fall into the cellar hole, but not nearly enough to fill it with. One large, tulip-shaped piece of window glass, mysteriously unbroken, had been planted by the corner, at least a foot into the ground. Dirt and wind had etched mystic patterns on it, and the morning sun glinted on it like a coded message. From the center of the square, the earth fell away into the trench that had once been a tunnel. It wound, snakelike, back to the base of the Whomping Willow at Hogwarts, and filled up with sluggishly flowing water when it rained.  
  
He went in and gave Victoire an exaggerated bow. "Welcome back."  
  
She came inside the circle of the protections. "You did all this?"  
  
He shrugged. "Not my finest hour."  
  
"Mm." She looked around. "Is that the rosebush with plans to take over the world?" she asked, pointing to a rise in what had been the back garden.  
  
"Yeah, Dad planted it right after he and Mum got married. Before they got kicked out of the house. It's got a little wild in the last eighteen years."  
  
Victoire walked over to its closest branches. "I like it," she declared. "It needs some pruning, so that the whole thing can breathe better, but it's healthy. Let's let it be. We'll call it your tree."  
  
"I get a tree?"  
  
"Apparently so." She handed him her wooden Herbology kit, and fished out a pair of pruning shears. "You work on the rosebush, since it's yours. I'll start finding the glass."  
  
"I'll probably kill it."  
  
"No, you won't," she said absently. "Go to it, then."  
  
Thus issued his marching orders, Teddy frowned at the rosebush, then, tentatively, began to trim away at its more extreme growths. An hour later, Victoire came over with a trellis she'd fashioned from the broken wood of the house, and helped him set the roses to climb it. Now, it seemed to be standing up, facing the window pane in some sort of endless silent conversation.  
  
"We should get rid of that," Teddy said, walking toward the glass.  
  
"No, I don't think so," Victoire told him. She gathered up a few other bits of broken house, then guided the glass upward with her wand. Carefully, she fitted a molding around it with the leftover wood, covering the sharp edges, then sank it back into the earth and gave it a good cleaning. "Can you make it Unbreakable?" she asked.  
  
Teddy did so, then asked, "Why did we just plant an Unbreakable piece of garbage?"  
  
"It's the biggest piece of the house that you left, except the a bit of the framework in the cellar hole. I thought I'd mark it." She smiled. "Besides, in hundred years, people may wander through our little forest and wonder why there's a piece of glass in a frame there. They'll puzzle over it, and write books about it. It'll be quite the topic of conversation."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Also, I like the way the sun hits it. It's pretty."  
  
He laughed. "All right, fine. Our mysterious bit of glass will stand as a monument to the Shrieking Shack. I call on the spirits of Mum and the Marauders to watch over it."  
  
"And the whole forest," Victoire said, more thoughtfully than Teddy expected. Then she squared her shoulders and said, "Let's get this mess cleaned up, shall we? I got most of the wood--except what you were saving--into the cellar hole. We should turn it to earth. Will it stay if we Transfigure it?"  
  
"No. But we could speed up the process of decomposing it."  
  
"Oh! Oh, of course, a Composting Hex. Professor Longbottom uses them sometimes. Here, I'll show you..."  
  
Together, they Conjured an army of little worms that crawled through the half-rotten wood and paper. Teddy blasted apart the metal and plaster fixtures until they were nothing more than a fine dust. By afternoon, the hill had taken on a new shape--a shallow, tipped gravy bowl that spilled out into the ditch. The rosebush and the glass sculpture sat atop it, looking down on the little man-made valley.  
  
"We can plant a lot of trees," Victoire said. "The dip will be prone to flooding, so I'll have to see to drainage before I plant anything down in it, but it'll be good. I think it'll be good."  
  
"Me, too."  
  
She looked at the pile of wood he'd saved. "Are you sure you don't want to mulch that, too?"  
  
He nodded, and she accepted it.  
  
They locked up and started back toward Hogwarts, following the path of the ditch. In autumn, it was lined with dying grasses. A few free-born trees were starting to sprout. Halfway back, they ran across Hagrid and Roger, who'd spent the day observing a family of energetic jarveys who'd taken up residence at the halfway point. They walked together back to the gates, and Hagrid invited everyone for tea. There was no getting away from such an invitation, so the students steeled themselves and followed him down toward his hut, past the Whomping Willow, along the path--  
  
Hagrid stopped dead in his tracks. "Wait 'ere," he said. "Something's wrong."  
  
Teddy, Victoire, and Roger had their wands out already, and he didn't stop them when they followed, though his loping run got him there more quickly.  
  
They stopped outside the little barn where the hippogriffs sheltered in bad weather. Inside, they could hear Buckbeak battering at a stall. Dapple was scratching at the floor, but couldn't get through.  
  
In the paddock, posed on a stick like a scarecrow, was Cornelius Fudge.  
  
At least most of him.


	9. Recused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the murders get uncomfortably close to Harry, an editorial pointing it out forces him to recuse himself from the investigation.

Teddy sent his Patronus to the Auror Division before he really processed what he was seeing.  
  
Fudge wasn't, thank God, impaled on the scarecrow pole, but bound to it magically. His ears had been flayed, and his eyes stitched open and round. On first glance, Teddy had thought his hands, like Goyle's, were missing, but they weren't--they'd been broken and bound tightly in bandages, and his sleeves fell down over them.  
  
Within five minutes, Uncle Harry and Ron had Apparated to the gate and run to the paddock. They directed the others to step away while they examined the scene. Ron sent a Patronus, and a few minutes later, Ruthless joined them, all business. The Headmistress and Heads of House--as well as Professor Longbottom, who seemed to frequently forget that he _wasn't_ Gryffindor's Head of House anymore--were told to wait outside the perimeter. Teddy observed from behind the rail until Uncle Harry signaled for him to come over.  
  
"All right," he said. "You said Goyle was about him being a bully--that's why the hands--and Runcorn was a spy, so his eyes and mouth. What do you see here?"  
  
"Opened ears and eyes," Teddy said. "Disabled hands. Fudge denied Voldemort for a year, didn't he? And attacked all the wrong targets?"  
  
Uncle Harry nodded soberly. "Yes, he did. But why _here?_ "  
  
"Well, this is the first place we defied him," Ron said. "With Buckbeak."  
  
"Who alive knows that except for us, Hagrid, and Hermione?"  
  
"Macnair probably has a good idea."  
  
"Macnair's safely in Azkaban."  
  
Ron shrugged. "So what? Harry, half the school figured out that you and Hermione managed to rescue Buckbeak somehow. Who else would have done it? They didn't know _how_ , of course. Hermione was laughing at theories in a few of the books once. If we'd found a"--he made a twisting gesture of his chest that meant nothing to Teddy--"I'd worry."  
  
Uncle Harry shook his head. "Anyway, I didn't mean _here_ , particularly. I meant at Hogwarts. This is worse than the platform."  
  
"It's Hogsmeade weekend," Teddy said. "The gates have been opening and closing all day."  
  
"Only students in and out," Professor Longbottom said.  
  
"Are you sure?" Teddy morphed himself into a third year boy with straw blond hair and oversized teeth.  
  
"You're the only one we need to worry about Metamorphmagery with," Professor Sprout said.  
  
"What about Polyjuice Potion?" Uncle Harry asked as Teddy morphed back. "We've nothing like the Thief's Downfall here, or Crouch never would have been able to get in and out..."  
  
"Crouch was on staff," Professor Sprout said. "We wouldn't have checked him quite as well as we check students coming and going."  
  
"And no one could have been Polyjuiced as a teacher?" Ron pushed.  
  
"Or the killer could be on staff," Ruthless said, then looked up into the silence. "Well... it would explain a few things." She looked at the body and frowned. "Body was brought here from somewhere else, though. There's not enough blood. So, staff or Polyjuice or not, something would have had to be carried in."  
  
"I was seeing to the gate," Professor Longbottom said. "Most of the students aren't back yet--maybe ten. And no adults since this morning. Professor Hagrid's the first staff member back."  
  
Uncle Harry rubbed his head. "All right," he said. "We'll need to start taking statements. Hagrid, could we use the barn?"  
  
"What for? Use my house."  
  
"We could split it three ways," Ruthless suggested. "I can talk to the students out here."  
  
Uncle Harry nodded absently, and then there was a brief period of pointless motion, at the end of which, Teddy found himself sitting quietly on the hillside with Roger while Victoire and Ruthless chatted.  
  
"'I can talk to the students'?" Roger mimicked. "She's been out of here for, what, four months?"  
  
"Feels like forever," Teddy said.  
  
Roger didn't pursue the conversation. She called him next, leaving Teddy alone once Victoire said that they weren't supposed to compare notes, at least until after they'd given their statements. She went up to the castle.  
  
Teddy watched the interview, which was conducted on two stone benches Ruthless had Conjured. Roger obviously tried to joke a bit at first, but Ruthless got him back on the subject. There wasn't much to say, and it didn't take long. Roger came loping back and told Teddy to go on over.  
  
Teddy sat on the stone bench across from Ruthless. It was cold. "Hi."  
  
She bit her lip, looked at him, then looked down. "I just need to know what you saw, from the time you came across Hagrid until we got here."  
  
"Victoire and I were in town," he said, and told the tale she asked for.  
  
She took it down on a scroll, checked it, had him read it over for accuracy and sign it, then filed it away.  
  
"That's it?" Teddy asked.  
  
"Yeah. Pretty painless."  
  
Teddy looked at her feet, then made himself look up at her face. She wasn't looking at him. "Er... I, er... I guess you had to give a statement, too?"  
  
"How much did you hear?"  
  
"Only that all of the Aurors had alibis."  
  
"And since I live alone, you guessed I had to produce an alibi for the middle of the night."  
  
He nodded.  
  
She pressed her lips together. "I'm on duty. It's not a good time to have this particular conversation."  
  
"You're right. I'm sorry."  
  
"It's all right. I haven't been very forthcoming." She looked at the paddock. "I'll be here at least until the end of my shift. I'll, er... I'll drop my fox on you, and we'll talk then."  
  
"You don't have to. I know it's not my business."  
  
"I could stand talking to an actual friend. If... we still _are_?"  
  
Teddy's mind Conjured an image for him, a path in the Daedalus Maze--in one direction, he raged and walked away; in the other, he swallowed his pride, and it was bitter and choking. He chose the latter. He stood up and kissed her forehead. "I'm always your friend."  
  
The look she gave him told him that she knew exactly what battle he'd just fought. She nodded.  
  
He went back to the castle.  
  
He spent the rest of the afternoon working on Potions homework. Mallowsweet was turning into a rather interesting plant. It enhanced visions, but you had to be very careful with it. Too much, and he thought it likely that you'd lose the ability to differentiate--not merely between solid visions and meaningless dreams, but between vision and reality itself. Of course, some illicit potions did that deliberately, but most of them created absurdities that, once sober, the user would understand as delusions. Mallowsweet's benefit--and danger--was in clear-seeing. If anything, it would remove the extraneous nonsense that tended to accompany other visions. An overdose would be a strange experience at best. Sage might take off a sharp edge, but still--he'd need to be very careful.  
  
Victoire brought him food, explaining that she'd had to make an escape from the Great Hall herself, as everyone was bombarding her with questions about the body. Teddy thanked her.  
  
It was nearly eight o'clock when a flash of white light on the ceiling broke his concentration. Ruthless's Patronus--a small fox--dropped down and opened its mouth. "I'm by the lake, where we talked."  
  
They'd talked in many places during their six years together at Hogwarts, but Teddy knew exactly where she'd meant. Last spring, after the final disaster in their romance--a "birthday gift" that they'd both ended up rejecting--she'd gone down to a rocky point on the shore, and there, balanced on the cold stone, she'd told him that there would be no more trying to make it work. That she was tired of being his "fallback position." He'd argued that she wasn't any such thing, but he hadn't been able to convince her.   
  
The doors were locked and under surveillance, given that a murderer had been on the grounds, but she knew that wasn't particularly problematic. He transformed into a hawk, dropped out of his window, and soared down along the shore of the lake.  
  
She was sitting now where she'd sat that day, illuminated by the quarter moon and a spill of cold October stars instead of the April morning sun.  
  
He flew to the rock beside her, transformed, and sat down. " _If_ we're still friends?" he chided.  
  
"Don't even pretend that you didn't have to think about it for a minute."  
  
"It wasn't the most pleasant realization I've ever come to," he admitted.  
  
She sighed. "I just realized... if I wasn't waiting for you anymore, then I wasn't waiting for anyone in particular. That I should see what life had to offer. Do you understand?"  
  
"Not really. I still don't understand why you think you and I couldn't work things out--"  
  
"I'm not going over it again, Teddy."  
  
"--but that's all right. I know you believe it."  
  
"You're not going to go mad and start following me around, are you? I had to study a case like that; it didn't end well."  
  
Teddy made a face, then said, "No. I'm just eternally hopeful, and I still love you."  
  
She nodded. "Well, I still love you, too. But it's not going to happen, and I wanted to try being... just Ruth. Just a girl starting out on her own. And Sam's very kind. He takes care of his older brother--he got hurt during the war--and he's very gentle. And he seemed very sure about the whole thing. I wasn't sure about anything, and..." She sighed again. "I'm not saying this right. I don't want you to think he talked me into it. It just happened."  
  
"Do you... I mean, are you... in love with him?"  
  
She shook her head. "Not even a little bit. I keep hoping I will be soon, and he might be with me, but"--she looked up fondly--"it seems somewhere in my head, I'm a bit stubborn."  
  
"You? Never." He smiled at her, and she returned it. "So, now that all of this is out in the open, will I be getting more letters?"  
  
"Not unless you can fix me one of those Time Turners in the Department of Mysteries. This Auror training business is a lot beyond full time."  
  
"Do you like it?"  
  
"I don't think it's something you like or don't like. It's something you _are_."  
  
"Do you like being it? I mean, are you happy? Stupid question with a killer around, I guess, but are you?"  
  
"I feel like it matters that I'm here," she said, then nodded. "Yeah. I'm happy." She looked toward Hagrid's place. "Though I reckon I'll be a lot happier when our present lunatic is introduced to the pleasures of a North Sea winter as Macnair's neighbor."  
  
"Cheers," Teddy said.  
  
They talked for a while after it, mainly catching up on school gossip, which she hadn't heard, and she left a bit before midnight. Teddy flew back to his room, feeling better.  
  
The next morning, he thought it might be safe to come down to the Great Hall. He could deal with a few questions, and if all else failed, he could legitimately claim homework as an excuse to leave.  
  
"Lupin!"  
  
He looked up as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Corky came out of the Great Hall, and started to physically lead him away.  
  
"What?" Teddy asked.  
  
"Bloody Rita Skeeter. Even Honoria's angry. Skeeter wrote an editorial for the evening edition last night, and this morning..."  
  
"What sort of editorial?"  
  
"The sort that, er..."  
  
A group of fourth years came out of the Great Hall. One of them had the Sunday _Prophet_ open. Teddy plucked it from his hand, ignoring the outraged cry about the crossword puzzle.  
  
On the front page, the headline announced, "HARRY POTTER RECUSES SELF FROM NEEDLE'S EYE CASE: Chief Auror and War Hero Admits He Is 'Too Close Now.'"

 

Teddy felt his jaw dropping further as he read the article. Once the newsy lead paragraph informed everyone of what the headline had already said, it was just a reprint of Rita's editorial from the evening edition. She'd decided somehow that the only definite linkage among Runcorn, Goyle, and Fudge (at least in this location for the last) was Uncle Harry, or possibly Hermione, who was barely a step removed. She didn't go so far as to accuse either of them, but she tied enough messy strings to them that anything Uncle Harry did would be compromised by public doubt. Ron had also been removed from the investigation.  
  
"This is ridiculous," he said. "I can't even believe how absurd this is."  
  
Corky shrugged. "I know. What are we doing about it?"  
  
Teddy scanned the article. "Will Honoria respond?"  
  
"She's already sent in a long letter, and I'm guessing she's not the only one who will."  
  
"Let me talk to Uncle Harry. See what he wants us to do before we move on it."  
  
Corky agreed to this. Teddy skipped breakfast and went back up to Gryffindor to use the fireplace. A moment later, his head was resting in the kitchen at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. "Uncle Harry?" he called.  
  
James came into view from upstairs. "Teddy? Is that you?"  
  
He nodded, and ignored the ash in his eyes. "Is Uncle Harry around?"  
  
"Is this about the _Prophet_?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
James furrowed his brow. "Well, he's, er... here. But Aunt Hermione's been yelling at him about it all morning, and now she's yelling at Grannydromeda--"  
  
"Granny? Why?"  
  
"Well, she's the one who said Dad ought to excuse himself."  
  
" _What?_ "  
  
James shrugged elaborately. "I don't get it, either, but it's something about appearances."  
  
"James?" Uncle Harry called. With the door open, Teddy could, in fact, clearly hear Granny's voice and Hermione's. "Is there someone in the fireplace or not?"  
  
"It's Teddy!" James yelled back, looking over his shoulder.  
  
Uncle Harry's feet appeared at the top of the stairs, and then the door closed, shutting out the arguments. He came to the fireplace and sat down on a low stool that had been put there for this purpose. "I don't even care what you're calling about, I'm just glad to be out of that, so thank you."  
  
"He's calling about the article," James said.  
  
"I guessed as much. Can we keep the volume down?" He pointed at the door.  
  
"Yeah, er... I guess. James said Granny told you to do this?"  
  
"She suggested. I agreed."  
  
Teddy tried to process this. "Why? I called to see what we could do about it! And it's not some Slytherin thing--Corky and Honoria are angry, too. Honoria wrote to the _Prophet_. I was thinking of writing, too..."  
  
"Teddy, don't." Uncle Harry sighed. "James, could you go upstairs, please? See if you can get Grannydromeda and Aunt Hermione laughing at something instead of yelling at each other."  
  
James nodded soberly and scurried upstairs.  
  
Uncle Harry turned back to Teddy. "Your grandmother thinks that Rita already muddied the waters too much. I don't think anyone thinks it's _me_ , and I'm reasonably certain it's neither Ron nor Hermione, and we know it's not Hagrid, since he was actually with someone all morning--"  
  
"So, what's the problem?"  
  
"The problem is that the place Fudge's body was left is one that friends of mine from school would think of as associated with my... difficulties... with Fudge. One of the first places _I_ saw that the Ministry under Fudge wouldn't be any help in the fight. As to Runcorn and Goyle... I have no idea how anyone would know this other than Ron and Hermione--well, and Aunt Ginny, now--but I used Polyjuice to become both of them. Runcorn, they might know about. But Draco's the only person I can think of who might have guessed that he wasn't talking to Goyle. And before you ask, yes. Draco's covered for it. I interviewed him.  It was somewhat awkward."  
  
"So, what's the problem?"  
  
"Whoever it is knows a lot about me, or there are a lot of coincidences. There's a good chance that it _is_ someone I know. Which means that I really am compromised on investigating it."  
  
"You investigated Greyback's death," Teddy said.  
  
"Everyone was just glad he was gone. And that was self-defense, and everyone knew it. On that note, though, it's probably a good idea for you, in particular, to keep your head down about this." Uncle Harry rubbed his scar. "This... it's bringing back a lot of things people would rather not think about. Though, obviously, _someone_ wants to think about it."  
  
"Geoff Phillips thinks it's because we're lazy and complacent and don't want to admit that anything was wrong."  
  
"I think that's just a nasty way of saying that we've been doing our best to rebuild a life in peacetime. But it _is_ , essentially, just another way of seeing the same facts. It may be something like what our murderer thinks."  
  
Teddy frowned. "And since you're one of the main people saying we should move on and rebuild..."  
  
"He may well have a grudge against me, too," Uncle Harry admitted. "Or see himself as doing what I should have." He sighed again. "I didn't want a Reign of Terror. Maybe I really _didn't_ do enough for retributions, maybe--"  
  
"Maybe everyone who's not a murderous psychopath is glad you didn't!" Teddy protested.  
  
Uncle Harry smiled. "Thank you, Teddy. I've found myself second-guessing a lot lately. So much for wise Uncle Harry, eh? I'm sorry."  
  
They talked for a few more minutes--more, Teddy suspected, so that Uncle Harry could cover up his moment of clear weariness and depression than because either of them expected anything to come of it--then Teddy pulled his head back and sat back on his heels in the Gryffindor Common Room.  
  
In his head, he composed a letter to the _Prophet_ on Uncle Harry's behalf--it was all quite outraged, and signed "T.R. Lupin," as everything he did in the adult world was--but thankfully, his mind also supplied the follow-up, in which someone wrote a letter about irregularities in the Greyback case, proving that Uncle Harry would cut corners for someone he felt close to... like, say, "T.R. Lupin."  
  
"Were you talking to Uncle Harry?" Victoire asked behind him.  
  
He nodded and pulled himself to his feet, then flopped into one of the high-backed chairs. "He wants me to keep my head down, and I sort of understand. It wouldn't help him if I got involved."   
  
Victoire took another and pulled it around so she was facing him. "What should we do?"  
  
"I don't know. Any ideas?"  
  
"Some You-No-Poo cocktails sent to the _Prophet_?"  
  
Teddy laughed. "Fun, but not useful."  
  
"I know. I can't think of anything useful. Though I'd best check all of Marie's outgoing mail, come to think of it, and make sure she doesn't _actually_ do that."  
  
Teddy tried to force himself back into homework--excuses wouldn't be accepted--but all day, his mind kept tugging at the edges of the crime, and, more, on the horrible look on Uncle Harry's face. Uncle Harry would find a way to help _him_. But short of solving the case, Teddy couldn't think of anything. He finally set aside his book on gurdyroot in potions history (he'd read the same page six times) and started jotting down anything he could think of about the case, letting it come in a stream-of-consciousness way, hoping that some kind of pattern would emerge. If nothing else, he could still send it to Ruthless. She was Ron's apprentice, but surely, they wouldn't lose another person from the case if it could be helped.  
  
 _Runcorn--first. Released from Azkaban. Trigger to start? Goyle. Student in Uncle Harry's year. Fudge. Obstructionist, paranoid. Geoffrey and the complacency business. Half-blood babies not born. Any connection? Why would there be? Whoever was doing this was born. Runcorn. Runcorn was first. Everyone else was after, once he was warmed up. Granny's covered for granddad; Sam Cresswell is covered, so he' s not out avenging Dirk Cresswell. Sam's brother, who was hurt? Probably checked, but I'll mention it. Who else did he betray?..._  
  
After an hour of this, he'd filled eighteen inches of a scroll with small writing, and didn't see much more of a pattern than there was in the paper. He put it together as coherently as he could, and sent it off to Ruthless in a letter.  
  
He got a response three days later.  
  
 _Dear Teddy,  
Yes, I'm still on the case. You're not actually on it, you know. Not that I'm not glad for any input you have; a fresh brain is often good, and you were cleared to know more than most people when you were helping Maddie this summer.  
  
I agree that Runcorn is the key. These sorts of murderers start with what they know best. But everyone is accounted for. I've contacted a few of the families who were affected by the issues at St. Mungo's (God, what a cold thing to call that), and there's no connection that I've been able to see.  
  
We didn't look at Sam's brother, because there's no need to--he was injured in a Quidditch game at Hogwarts that year, and, because he was a half-blood, the Death Eaters didn't get him Healed fast enough. I'm not really sure they could have, anyway (Sam and his mother are quite sure... and yes, I've looked at Teresa Cresswell, too, and she has a solid alibi); he was hit at the base of his skull with the Bludger, and it did something to his spinal cord and his brain. He can barely move, and he doesn't remember anything. Whatever else our killer is, he's mobile.  
  
I'm going up to Azkaban tomorrow to interview Dolores Umbridge about the Muggle-born trials. Maybe she'll have more information about who Runcorn turned in, though I suppose I shall have to use the word "exposed," like he was doing her a great service. I really hate Azkaban interviews.  
  
Please get back to your school work. I'm looking forward to you being here next year, but you won't be if you don't pull the N.E.W.T.s for it. Besides, you're not going to be a very fresh brain to pick if you're obsessing over the same details I am.  
  
Love,  
Ruthless_

* * *

  
For the next two days, Teddy tried to find another view of the case. Ruthless's letter rankled him--the last paragraph, about staying on his school work, particularly seemed to stick in his mind like a pin. She'd said she wanted him to keep his mind fresh so he could help, but there was something under it, a sort of...  
  
He ground his teeth.  
  
He was probably just imagining the sense that she was saying he was still just a boy, that she had a man to help her now (and how could she have been clearer about that, and how could he have insisted on remaining a boy?), and he really ought to mind his school work. Maybe she meant what she'd said. Maybe she wanted his mind fresh, and maybe she really was looking forward to him coming back. She'd seemed close the other night.  
  
He pulled his mind away from that spiral of thought several times.  
  
He scryed in his crystal ball for an hour on Friday night, but stopped when he realized that all it was showing him--in its maddeningly cryptic images--was Ruthless. And Sam. And the dismissive "Go back to school" tone of her note. He shoved it away and went back to work on a Charm he was designing for Flitwick (the intent was to cause foliage to actually whisper words, but so far it was ineffective, unless the trees were Parselmouths), and finally settled into his History of Magic paper. He'd decided to stay away from the baby-killings, and focus instead on the underground resistance in London. His closest tie to it was Lee Jordan, whose radio show had been a focal point (Mum and Dad had both appeared on it at various points), but he decided to avoid Lee--or George Weasley, who'd also been involved--and concentrate on the parts that were more distant to him, more like the rest of History of Magic. It would involve St. Mungo's and the audacious defiance that had been required to keep the Longbottoms alive--he strongly suspected that Mehadi Patil might well have used the Imperius Curse that year--and might extend to a system of tunnels that were alleged to have been dug under Diagon Alley. No one had found them, but there were rumors of the wandless getting free.  
  
He left his crystal ball beside his bed, and let himself drift off to sleep and fall into a dream.  
  
In it, he was standing at Screech Hill with Victoire, in front of the bit of glass they'd planted in the garden. She was looking through it, quite fascinated.  
  
"What is it?" he asked. "What do you see?"  
  
"What would you expect to see through a window in the woods?"  
  
"More woods."  
  
She laughed. "Well, then, that's what I see."  
  
"But there aren't any woods yet."  
  
"I see them anyway."  
  
Teddy looked around, and realized that he'd lied--the hill _was_ covered with trees now, the tiny gully where the cellar hole had been was a spill of colorful wildflowers, and the middle of them, at the lowest point, there was a tree that was singing softly to itself. Beautiful red fruit hung from its boughs, but he'd been taught long ago not to eat in his dreams. "What is it?" he asked.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"I thought you knew all the plants."  
  
"It's your tree, Teddy."  
  
"I thought I had the rosebush."  
  
Victoire smiled. "You do. See?" She pointed to the tree, and the red splotches he'd taken for fruit became roses. But not roses. They were shaped like cups.  
  
"Those aren't roses."  
  
"Really? What are they?"  
  
"They're not roses."  
  
Victoire raised her eyebrows. "We've covered that."  
  
"Herbology isn't my subject."  
  
Victoire took this philosophically. "I'd say it's Merlin's tree, but that's an oak. Maybe it's the World Tree."  
  
"Or the Tree of Life?"  
  
"Or the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil." She shrugged. "Or just a tree. What do you see in it?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Look closer." She stepped away from the window.  
  
He took the hint and stood in front of it, looking through the orphaned glass at his tree. There were fairies drinking from the flowers. One drank heavily, then slipped into a deep slumber. "You know," he said, "the dead are clearer with me."  
  
"Only if they know something." She took his hand, and her hands were warm and solid. He kissed her fingers, and she leaned against him. "Teddy?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do you love me?"  
  
"Of course I do. I--" He looked down. Victoire's silky blond hair had become Ruthless's bright red curls. He blinked. "Of course I do."  
  
"Then WAKE UP." She shoved him, and he fell, head over heels, into the gully, toward the tree, and the flowers shook and spilled water on him, water that sent him into the blackness, where fairies danced around their tiny fires and something mad stalked the night.  
  
He opened his eyes in his bed. It was just past dawn. He looked resentfully at the crystal ball, and shoved it into his desk drawer without any ceremony. He didn't need dreams and crystal visions to tell him he was jealous and feeling left out. He needed something _useful_.  
  
"Good morning, Teddy," Dad said from the portrait. Mum wasn't there this time. She was probably off having an adventure in another portrait. Dad was looking at him warily. "What weren't roses?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You kept saying it in your sleep. 'Not roses.'"  
  
Teddy shrugged. "Just a dream. Not a very productive one."  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Well... it's stupid."  
  
"If you can't tell a portrait of your father something stupid, who can you tell?" He sat down on the bench. "Really, Teddy--isn't that part of why you wanted us with you?"  
  
"Maybe," Teddy said. "I just... there are real things wrong in the world, and the only visions I can summon up are about my ex-girlfriend and how she might not respect me very much. Which I can't blame her for, as a more useful Seer wouldn't keep tripping over his own stupid things every other minute."  
  
"Mm," Dad said. "I think you need to work your way past it. You can't just pretend not to feel something."  
  
"But if I _do_ feel it, then it doesn't say much for me, does it? That all I can think about is me, and not Ruthless, not really, and--"  
  
"How perfect do you expect yourself to be?" Dad leaned forward. "You're _doing_ what's right. The right feelings will come along eventually. If they're not already there."  
  
"They're not."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes, Dad, I'm reasonably sure I'm nowhere near being as nice about it as I'm pretending to be."  
  
Dad didn't answer this, and went off on a tangent about James and Lily and Severus Snape. Teddy wasn't sure if he himself was meant to be James or Snape in the scenario, and Dad didn't clarify before Mum returned, wearing some sort of headdress she'd picked up from a medieval portrait.  
  
Teddy talked to them until he heard the rest of Gryffindor House stirring, then went behind the curtains on his bed and got dressed. He went down to breakfast.  
  
None of his friends in Gryffindor had come down yet, so he went over to the Slytherin table to sit with Maurice and Corky. Maurice was shaking his head at a letter beside his plate. Corky looked up as Teddy came over said, "Don't ask."  
  
"Don't ask what?"  
  
Maurice waved the letter at him. "My dad gave in to Wendell. He's keeping our part in the shop, and..." He winced. "My brother is going to run Borgin and Burke's when Borgin retires. And he's going to work there summers until then, to learn about it."  
  
"At least _you_ don't have to," Corky said.  
  
"I will, though. Wendell has no head for numbers. His brain's full of historical trivia."  
  
"He'll learn," Teddy said.  
  
Maurice gave him a dark look. "I'll end up at the shop," he said. "I can't get away from it. I had a nice career set up. I've been doing Don's books, and I met with a girl-group that's auditioning for his tour next summer, and they just sacked their business manager. I could make a tidy living at it, and be nowhere near anyone's used Dark magic."  
  
"And you still can," Corky told him. "Just teach Wendell about numbers. Or let Borgin do it, I'd guess he knows a thing or two about gold--"  
  
"Borgin isn't teaching my brother _anything_ ," Maurice said vehemently. "If I have to _unteach_ him after his summer work, I'll do it." He looked up and groaned. "Wonderful. You didn't overhear that, did you?"  
  
Teddy felt himself nudged, and Honoria Higgs sat down between him and Corky. She smiled brightly. "I shall have to interview you about that. I didn't know you hated Borgin."  
  
"What year have _you_ been living in?" Corky asked.  
  
She reached back and pinched his ear. He caught her hand and kissed it. She paid no attention to this. "Don't worry, Maurice, it's not your turn yet."  
  
Maurice looked at her with deep misgivings. "Turn?"  
  
Honoria pulled out a scroll. "I'm getting a late start, as this murder's been taking up everyone's attention, but I'm starting my piece on the year now. Lupin goes first."  
  
"Me?" Teddy asked. "Why? You said it yourself, everyone knows my story."  
  
"Everyone thinks they know it," Honoria said. "But they don't, as I haven't told it to them yet." She pulled out a quill eagerly. "Where shall we start?"


	10. The Lost Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honoria begins her threatened series on the lives of the seventh years, starting with Teddy, just when he's feeling particularly useless.

Teddy avoided Honoria for most of the week, thinking that if he could keep away, she'd forget the mad notion of interviewing him and making up an article about him. Maybe she'd forget the whole series. Unfortunately, on Friday morning, the _Charmer_ came out as always, and on the front page, he saw that she not only intended to do it, but to make it a feature.

He groaned as he read her introduction.

By A Thread

  
Hogwarts' Smallest Year Comes To An End  
Part 1 of 16

_Special to the Hogwarts Charmer  
from Honoria Higgs _ |    
__Image by **Leith** (aka, **marycontraria** ),  
for the Hogwarts Charmer__  
---|---  
  
We arrived at Hogwarts thinking ourselves like any other year--eleven-year-olds, worried about making friends, about how we would enjoy our classes, about who would be popular and who an outcast. Why would we think otherwise? We had led sheltered lives, and none of us really understood the circumstances under which we had been born.

But we weren't like other years. There were only fifteen of us, barely enough to fill our classes.

Perhaps some of it can be attributed to common sense. The dark days of war are foolish days in which to have children. Some of our classmates may simply have been, shall we say, postponed.

More of it can be explained by circumstances less dark than imagined--half-blood and Muggle-born parents escaped Britain during the course of the fighting, and most chose to remain where they landed. One Muggle-born mother currently residing in Canada, who chose to remain anonymous, said, "Two wars in twenty years over the same subject... I decided not to risk my children on a third." These are whole families, whole lines lost to us, but at least still living, and safe in their new homes. There are, at this moment, people finishing their educations in other lands who might have been our classmates. The British Commonwealth--even the British Empire--may be a quaint curiosity for most people, but the structures and relationships still exist, particularly in the wizarding world, and for ten students (mainly born in the first half of the war) who grew up in India, Israel, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and even the United States, the shape of the old Empire is quite clear.

Neither of these reasons negates the simple and chilling truths of life for pregnant women and infants at the height of Voldemort's reign. Recently released documents from St. Mungo's confirm the forced termination of pregnancies for six Muggle-born witches and one pure-blood whose husband was Muggle-born.

| 

Two other pregnant witches whose fitness was questioned under the regime were found murdered and mutilated. And there is simply no way to know how many died in the course of the fighting who might have otherwise borne or sired children who would have walked the halls of Hogwarts castle with us.

And what of the Muggle-borns? The Hogwarts list was protected by loyal faculty members--Headmaster Severus Snape not least among them--but even so, accidental magic was tracked, and many Muggle-borns, not all in our year, didn't live to attend Hogwarts.

What did all of this mean for us?

We knew our own losses, of course--we were the orphaned and the exiled, and the nightmares of those days had haunted our families--but until we stood together for the first time on the shores of the Hogwarts lake, none of us understood the scale of the destruction, because none of us had given thought to those who were simply not there to feel losses of their own.

We sailed across the lake, under a full moon. Professor Hagrid had one boat. We, the students, were split into four. My own boat contained only three of us--myself, Teddy Lupin, and Maurice Burke. The others contained four students each. From above, we must have looked quite lost in the inky black of the water. All of the dreams and aspirations that fall on each year at Hogwarts were sitting on our small shoulders, and we knew, without saying it, that we didn't have the option of being inconsequential.

Each of us arrived at Hogwarts with a story begun--the sacrifice of war heroes, the return of the exiles, the discovery of newcomers. All of us added to our stories, none of us completed them. In the coming weeks, I will introduce you to the smallest year, and the stories we are only beginning to tell.  
  
---|---  
  
The paper was plucked from his hand, and Victoire sat down beside him to read. "Is she really going to do this?"

Teddy nodded morosely. "Unless we can avoid her."  
  
Victoire wrinkled her nose. "Honestly, Teddy, it's a perfectly good idea."  
  
"I think there's actual news out there."  
  
"Well, _I_ want to see what she writes about you. Is she going to interview you?"  
  
"Yes, I am," Honoria said eagerly, leaning over so that her long brown hair fell like a curtain between Teddy and Victoire. "He's up first. Do you have anything you want to add about the family?"  
  
"Not really," Victoire said. "The handy thing about our family is that you can just look them up in the library."  
  
Honoria laughed lightly. "Well, I was hoping for something a bit more, but Teddy can cover it. We can meet after Potions. I know you're not doing anything, because I already checked."  
  
"Honoria, do you _have_ to start with me?"  
  
She blinked owlishly, then said, "Of course I have to start with you. Who else is always in front of everything we do?"  
  
"That's not true!"  
  
She didn't bother answering this, and Teddy watched her sit down at the Hufflepuff table and ask Tinny something. Tinny looked at Teddy in a confused way, and shrugged some kind of affirmation. Honoria moved on to Roger.  
  
Teddy turned away, hoping she wasn't asking about _him_ , but supposing that she probably was. He waited for Tinny after breakfast, since she was in Potions with him anyway, and said, "What on Earth...?"  
  
"She wanted to know if I agreed with her that you set the tone for the year," Tinny said.  
  
"You didn't, did you?"  
  
"Was I not supposed to? I'll tell the others. But I think she's already talked to Roger and Laura and Joe, and I saw her heading over to Ravenclaw."  
  
Teddy winced.  
  
"Sorry," Tinny said. She changed the subject. "I had a letter from Frankie yesterday. Your cat book is ready to go to print, as soon as you and James approve the drawings."  
  
"I get to approve drawings?"  
  
"I guess you wouldn't _always_ , but it's Frankie. He's not going to shut you out of your own book." She looked at him slyly. "Are you going to tell Honoria about the book?"  
  
"It's our secret," Teddy said. "You, me, James, and Frankie. And Bill Weasley, since he opened Jim Wolf's Gringotts account."  
  
"And Victoire. And your Uncle Harry, and anyone who's ever heard the stories, and--"  
  
"I guess. But no one _public_."  
  
"Aren't you excited?"  
  
Teddy considered this. He'd almost forgotten about _Martian's Mistake_ , but thinking of approving drawings and seeing it in print... he did feel a glimmer of excitement. He nodded.  
  
"Well, don't go bouncing off walls," Tinny said, and rolled her eyes. "Really, Teddy, Frankie's been working hard on it."  
  
"I guess I've just been caught up in all of this business with the Needle's Eye."  
  
"Which is exactly what the raving lunatic wants," Tinny said. "Why are you giving it to him?"  
  
"That's a good point."  
  
"Good."  
  
They reached the Potions dungeon, and went inside to set up their cauldrons together, and Connie Deverell joined them a minute later. She had a fresh pot of Honking Daffodils for her project.  
  
"What in the world do they _do_?" Tinny asked. "I've never heard of anything."  
  
"Nothing I can see when they're dried," Connie said. "But I was thinking that the fresh ones might have some sort of... _alarm_ properties? I have to find out. Janey gave me a whole protocol to try."  
  
Teddy made a note to get fresh versions of all of his own ingredients before long, but today, made use of the dried versions. Today, he was testing mallowsweet leaves against the flowers, to see if there were any differences in properties. Sooner or later, he'd need to brew something and try it. By the time he was done pressing petals into a fine powder, he was lightheaded, and thought he might have breathed some in, as he was trying to make sense of the pattern of fire shadows on the dungeon ceiling by the time he left.  
  
And he nearly forgot about Honoria.  
  
She came burbling into the dungeon just as class ended, and yanked him by the sleeve. "Come on, then," she said. "Let's find out who you think you are."

He followed her reluctantly out into the corridor, hoping he wasn't too obviously buzzed.

"What's he got you chopping in there?" she asked, sniffing. "Smells good."  
  
"No chopping," Teddy said. "Mortar and pestle on some dried flowers."  
  
"I do love mortar and pestle projects. They loosen tongues."  
  
Teddy stopped. "Honoria, maybe we should do this later."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "I'm _kidding_ , Teddy. This is... well, not a fluff piece, per se, but I'm not trying to catch anyone at anything. I'm just trying to introduce people to the year. If you say something idiotic that screams, 'I've been inhaling Potions ingredients,' I'll edit it to make it sound wise or clever anyway."  
  
"Is that quite honest?"  
  
"Well... yes. You're not habitually intoxicated and it would be less honest to make you seem like you are. And you really don't sound out of it; I was just kidding."  
  
Dubiously, Teddy let it drop, and followed her to an empty classroom, where she'd already set up an interview space with quills and scrolls.  
  
He resigned himself to the process.  
  
In all, she wasn't horrible. She tried to prise out information about how Teddy had got Dad's wedding ring, which he'd worn on a chain around his neck since first year, and which he was aware people wondered about. They knew he'd found it outside when no one else had been able to. He'd found it with the Marauder's Map, and that wasn't public knowledge, and wasn't intending to make it so. She even tossed an easy Quaffle about what he really looked like, and (off the record, he hoped) joked that he'd officially dated half the girls in the year... three quarters of them once the two dating his best friends were removed from consideration.  
  
She started to pack up after they'd talked for about forty minutes. He put a hand on her arm to stop her. "Honoria?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Why are you really doing this?"  
  
"Well, it'll look smashing for my apprenticeship if I can get the _Prophet_ to pick it up."  
  
"You're going to...?"  
  
"I'm going to _try_." She sniffed. "Though Rita's not been happy with me since I pointed out that it wasn't very responsible to start smearing Harry Potter and Ron Weasley."  
  
"Thanks for that. Though I didn't see your letter."  
  
"She didn't run it."  
  
"Then this is just for your apprenticeship."  
  
"Isn't that enough reason?" She looked at him oddly, then said, "All right, no."  
  
"Then why?"  
  
She grinned. "You'll just have to wait for my capstone article, on the great impact of the Smallest Year on the life of Honoria Higgs, editor. It shall be in my very last issue of the _Charmer_. You'll be stunned. Perhaps touched, and moved to write to the _Prophet_ to explain how one reporter can change everything."  
  
"I'll be waiting with bated breath," Teddy said, then let go of her arm. "You know, I'd write that anyway, if you need a recommendation for anything. What you did for the cubs third year... I'd mean it, too." He smiled. "I wouldn't even tell them that you're an annoying, nosy little busybody with no sense of anyone's boundaries."  
  
"You wouldn't? But they'd like that!"  
  
Teddy rolled his eyes, and walked with Honoria to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Robards hadn't been given any further information on the case, so they'd moved on to a long study of Inferi and the defenses a wizard could use against them. Teddy felt strange thinking of ways to destroy corpses of people who'd never asked for such a horrific fate--he thought particularly of Regulus Black, boiled beyond recognition in a lake, here--but as Robards pointed out, the destruction of an Inferius actually was a kindness to the soul of the person who had once inhabited the corrupted body.  
  
"If they're already dead," Corky asked, "then won't they just rise again once you leave them alone?"  
  
"You have to break the curse," Robards said. "Or burn or dismember the corpses. Both are dangerous to the wizard. Burning or dismembering involves getting quite close, and when the spell is broken, sometimes the released magic is quite powerful."  
  
Robards went on with a somewhat clinical explanation of what had happened the day Uncle Harry had led the Aurors to the cave--Robards had still been with the Division then--and Teddy let his mind wander. It didn't go anywhere pleasant. Destroying the corpses. Nailing their jaws shut, perhaps, or slitting their eyes open, or cutting off their hands. He supposed he ought to be glad that the Needle's Eye killer hadn't added the indignity of mobilizing his dead, but what he did was quite bad enough. Maybe he saw himself as destroying the corpses of the Voldemort regime so that they wouldn't rise again. Fudge hadn't exactly been in the regime, but his blindness had allowed it to rise, and he had been interested in pure blood and he'd made life very difficult in the Ministry before Ruthless's grand-uncle had taken over and--  
  
"Mr. Lupin, do you have anything you'd like to share?"  
  
He looked up at the sound of Robards' voice and shrugged. "Nothing that makes any sense yet."  
  
"While you're waiting for the answer to the world's problems to occur to you, perhaps you'd like to demonstrate a purging spell." He presented Teddy with a charm bracelet under an Unbreakable dome. "Not as complex as the Inferi curse, but I'd rather not take chances with blowback in the classroom."  
  
Teddy attempted the purging spell, but nothing came of it, which embarrassed him until everyone else in the class had also failed.  
  
"Don't worry," Robards said. "It's a tricky piece of defensive magic, and no one gets it right the first time. Even seasoned Aurors tend to work on it in pairs, and sometimes they fail."  
  
He continued his lecture, then closed with the ritual--and mostly meaningless--request for any off-beat ideas people had for finding a killer. Donzo suggested that Teddy ought to use the Daedalus Maze, which was met with good natured howls of protest from the others, particularly Maurice, who'd been in stasis for two months the last time Teddy had used the powerful divination tool.  
  
It didn't matter. All Teddy had left of it was his crystal ball.  
  
Which he decided he might as well use.  
  
After Defense Against the Dark Arts, Teddy finished grinding up his Mallowsweet, then went down to Hagrid's to look at the paddock again, and feed the hippogriffs. The area had been blocked off by Aurors' security spells the day after Uncle Harry's resignation, and Buckbeak and Dapple had been moved to the pumpkin patch. (Buckbeak was quite nervous about this location, and Dapple tried to cheer him up.) At first, Aurors had been there quite a lot, but there was only so much to see, and now, they were almost never there. Today was no different. Teddy knew how to get around the spells, and slipped around them now.  
  
Fudge was gone, of course, but the pole remained, and blood spatters had been preserved under careful protection spells. Teddy examined them without much hope, and found nothing.  
  
Grimacing, he took his book bag from his shoulder and planted his crystal ball at the base of the pole, sitting down cross-legged in front of it.  
  
"Don't even think about showing me my Ruthless problems here," he warned it.  
  
Vague, shadowy shapes filled the crystal immediately but Teddy couldn't identify them. He pressed his fingers against the glass, and the world changed. He was standing on the hill by the north battlements, where Mum and Dad had died, where Dad's ring had been lost. From here, he was looking down on Hogwarts, looking at the...  
  
The maze.  
  
It had brought him into the Daedalus Maze that had created it. He could see Hagrid's hut at the center, but he knew it would shift its shape long before he got there--Diagon Alley, maybe, or Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.  
  
He looked around for the Guide, sure it would be Mum or Dad in this place. Instead, he found Cornelius Fudge, looking jovial and avuncular, a lime green bowler perched atop his head.  
  
"Will you show me who killed you?" Teddy asked, though this wasn't how the Maze worked. It didn't give straight answers. It just helped Teddy find things.  
  
Fudge blinked placidly, and started down the hill into the maze. Teddy looked at the walls, where he could see things in the shrubbery--Fudge meeting Uncle Harry at the Leaky Cauldron, Fudge leading Macnair to Buckbeak, Fudge in the Ministry, dragging in workers to demand their loyalty to him at the height of his paranoia. He peered closer, and his head was filled up with a heady scent coming from the bushes. Fudge waited patiently for him to see everything there was to see, which wasn't much.  
  
"Is it one of these people?" Teddy asked the Guide. "I know it's not Uncle Harry or Ron or Hagrid, and it can't be Macnair..."  
  
Fudge waited silently.  
  
"So you're not showing me the murderer lurking around your life." Teddy looked again. Here was Fudge arguing with a man in his office, then sending him off with a shocked look on his face. And there was a woman begging for her post. And there was...  
  
Teddy frowned. "You're not even trying to show me who killed you, are you?" he asked. "You're trying to show me why you died."  
  
The Guide nodded.  
  
"Well, er... this is all business I know about. Is there anything else you can show me? What about Goyle, why Goyle?"  
  
The Guide shifted its shape, became Gregory Goyle, riding a broomstick slowly ahead of Teddy.  
  
And then Teddy felt the cold rain on his neck, and was pulled out of the Maze...  
  
And found himself walking up the stairs to his dormitory. He looked out. It was full dark out, and raining. There was rain coming through a window.  
  
He wasn't wet.

He stopped, his mind trying to make sense of it.  He had no idea how he'd come to be here, or what became of the paddock and the crystal ball and the vision.  He remembered the entire thing with great clarity, but it was pouring outside, and his hands were still covered with Mallowsweet from when he'd been grinding it in the dungeon, and the rain would have…

"Oh, damn," he whispered to no one.

He turned and went back down to the dungeons, where he handed the little jar of powdered Mallowsweet petals to Professor Stephens after explaining what had happened and asked, "Is that a property that's not on the books? Hallucinations?"  
  
"I've never _heard_ of it," Stephens said, peering at the fine dust. "I really didn't give you potions ingredients imagining that they'd have psychogenic effects in their raw form."  
  
"But it _is_ involved in visions," Teddy said. "It's the only thing I can think of. When I was working with it in class, I was trying to read shadows from the flames on the ceiling."  
  
"Did they start to take any shapes?"  
  
"No, it wasn't like that. It was more... tracing the lines they made, and letting my mind find the patterns that made sense. More like meditation than astrology."  
  
"Hmm." He put the jar up. "I'm going to look into this, Teddy. In the meantime, I'd recommend not using that ingredient."  
  
"Do you think it was a vision?"  
  
He shook his head. "I don't know a thing about Divination. You might ask Professor Firenze about what you saw when you thought you were having a vision.  Centaurs make extensive use of Mallowsweet. It may well be perfectly valid. What I _can_ tell you as that you came back through my door no more than ten minutes after you left. The most you would have had time to do was go up to Gryffindor tower and come back. There's absolutely no possibility that you went to Hagrid's paddock."  
  
"But I _remember_ going there."  
  
"Was it dark out?"  
  
"Er... no."  
  
Stephens opened his arms as if to say, _There you are_. "It was already dark when you left the dungeon," he said. "I'd just looked out and thought about how early the sun goes down at this time of year. Your memory is wrong."  
  
"Oh, great."  
  
"Had you been thinking about going there?"  
  
"We'd talked about using the Daedalus Maze in Defense. I thought I might try it." He sighed. "So I just made up a memory because it was mentioned."  
  
"It would seem so."  
  
"It was so detailed, though. And it wasn't at all like a vision, until the memory is actually about going into the Maze. It was just a walk down to Hagrid's, and looking around. There was nothing off, except the light. It never even occurred to me to question it until the rain pulled me out of it."  
  
"Well, I guess we've discovered a new property of Mallowsweet petals. Not a very nice one, really. That could cause some mischief." He put the jar in a high cupboard and sealed it magically. "Would you mind writing up your experience? I have to report things like this to the Potions Board. Don't worry, you won't be in any trouble."  
  
Teddy agreed and left, feeling foolish, cheated, and a bit frightened by how easily he'd been taken in. The light. The light should have been a dead giveaway.  
  
Professor Firenze was surprised by the news when Teddy told him; Centaurs apparently used the petals quite frequently with no parallel effect. "Sage and Mallowsweet are not meant to intoxicate," he said. "They are, hmm, something rather like the human potion Felix Felicis, but rather than improving one's luck--a foolish and temporary pursuit--they improve the ability to see patterns."  
  
"That's what it was at first. I was trying to read shadows."  
  
Firenze frowned at him deeply, as disapproving as ever of trying to read anything less lasting than the universe.  
  
He wrote his report on the incident for the Ministry, and the ingredient was duly removed from the school stores a week later.  
  
Meanwhile, Honoria's articles began to appear. Teddy felt vaguely silly reading his own, but even more, deeply uncomfortable. It wasn't that she'd treated him badly--in fact, it was essentially a puff piece--but the notion of seeing his own name and face featured so prominently, treated like he had done something of consequence... it was unnerving. More unnerving was a rash of argument about the article that occurred the following week, in which complete strangers took issue with his recounting of his own life, or with Honoria's odd interpretation of him as the center of the year. A few students turned hostile toward him, accusing him of hypocritical levels of modesty, when he was clearly just seeking attention. To his horror, a third year Gryffindor girl pasted the photograph from the article to the front of her Defense Against the Dark Arts notebook, and surrounded it with glittering little hearts. This was left in the middle of the Common Room, and all three of the Weasley girls considered it the height of hilarity. Victoire even charmed the hearts to make a twinkly little song when the light hit them.  
  
The next week's article, about Donzo, at least got the attention off of him, and by the time Maurice and then Corky had their turns, Teddy was mercifully left to school obscurity.  
  
Just before Christmas hols, Teddy and Donzo used their Animagus forms to sneak out of the school (Teddy could fly out of any window, and Donzo had found a loose board in a door that he could wriggle through as a raccoon). The plan was to Charm the Hogwarts Express, which was waiting at the station, inside the school's security, making it fairly easy for students -- who were also inside -- to get on board. A few reindeer fireworks would canter up and down the corridor, the doors would sing, and the smoke billowing out of the chimney would be red and green and shaped into Christmas-y things like wreaths and trees and stars. They also decorated the sweets cart and left an evergreen crown for the witch who pushed it.  
  
"Are you going to get to see your book?" Donzo asked, working a carol into a particularly stubborn door. "I know you wanted to wait until you and James could see it at the same time."  
  
"Yeah, we're going over to Frankie's the day after tomorrow. Do you want to come down for the Sunday night game?"  
  
"There's a game?"  
  
"It's still Frankie," Teddy said. "Ruthless goes, too. And Bernice Fletcher and Zach Templeton."  
  
"I'm there." Donzo finished his spell with a flourish and moved on to the next door. Before he got started he said, "How will it be with Ruthless? And you?"  
  
"Oh, just terrible. We may speak pleasantly to each other and try to outdo each other on Tube-crawls."  
  
Donzo raised an eyebrow.  
  
Teddy shrugged. "It's fine. _We're_ fine. It's Ruthless. She even said I could Apparate up and have a drink with the family on Christmas Day."  
  
"Are you going to?"  
  
"Sure, why not?" Teddy started fiddling with a reindeer firework, timing it to start cantering about halfway home. "All bets are off if our neighborhood lunatic shows his face again. She won't be able to get off work at all."  
  
"Do you think he will?"  
  
"Maybe not at Christmas." Teddy reconsidered. "On the other hand, spoiling the holidays for everyone by splashing a gory murder around sounds about his style."  
  
"Do you ever wonder if it could be one of us?"  
  
"Geoff?"  
  
"Not to name any names."  
  
"Has he been going off on it again?"  
  
"Again?" Donzo rolled his eyes. "He never stopped. He wears that bloody tee shirt to sleep in."  
  
"I doubt the murderer would do that."  
  
"It would be a brilliant way to deflect attention, really--act like you just admire the genius of it all."  
  
Teddy thought about it. "He didn't know Goyle was dead when he came to the station. Remember? He guessed it when I said 'bodies.'"  
  
"Oh. Right." Donzo started in on the next door. "He's not the really bad one, anyway. It's some of those littler kids. They're all for declaring a war on the leftover Death Eaters and collaborators. I think they want some glory or something, since they didn't get to fight."  
  
"Ravenclaws are worried about not being in the fight?"  
  
"We have our honor," Donzo said testily. "But mostly, it's the idea. They learn about the war, and they're all fired up to live up to the ideals of chasing out the Death Eaters, only there really aren't any, and they're frustrated. Does that make sense?"  
  
"Not even a little bit."  
  
Donzo twirled his wand, and a smoky figure of Fenrir Greyback floated in front of Teddy's face. Teddy got the point, but Banished it without saying anything.  
  
The next morning, the students boarded the train (with the exception of the handful who chose to remain at school) to a rousing chorus of "The Three Wizards and the Star," and thoughts of murders--or uncomfortable situations with ex-girlfriends--disappeared for the length of the trip. The younger children loved the fireworks, and the older ones played with the doors to try and get them to sing in counterpoint to each other. The witch with the sweets cart wore her crown proudly, and Teddy thought she was slightly Expanding each treat she sold.  
  
As the train pulled in at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, the last firework went off, sending the House mascots gamboling above the waiting crowd. From the window, Teddy caught a glimpse of Lily Potter clapping as she sat on Uncle Harry's shoulders.  
  
He smiled.  
  
Whatever else was happening, he was home.


	11. By A Thread (1): Teddy, Donzo, Maurice, Corky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first four articles in Honoria's series.

Volume 7, Issue 12

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_20 November 2015_  
  
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**By A Thread**  
  
 **Teddy Lupin: Shapeshifter**  
  
Part 2 of 16

 

If you are reading the Charmer at home, here is what you know about Ted Remus Lupin:  
  
Born to war heroes Remus Lupin and Nymphadora (Tonks) Lupin, who died in battle only two weeks later, Ted (perhaps you have heard enough to think of him as "Teddy") is the godson of Harry Potter, with whom he has frequently been seen since infancy. You may have heard of a confrontation he had with Fenrir Greyback--the werewolf who had attacked his father in childhood--four years ago. Beyond that, if you are of a particular age, you may have known one of his parents in school, or been a student of the much-beloved (if short term) Professor Lupin, of Defense Against the Dark Arts. He is a person of some interest, if you're interested in the war history, but no one of any great moment on his own.  
  
If you are reading the Charmer at school, there are other things you're more likely to think of when the subject of Teddy Lupin comes up:  
  
He is the only Gryffindor in seventh year, the fine thread holding the two sides of the war together in the House that took the greatest number of casualties. This, of course, makes him a prefect, but he is in all likelihood the one you _want_ to catch you, as he tends to forget that he can dock points. He is at the center of any school crisis, from fires in the Forbidden Forest to escaped werewolves to accidentally released plagues. Older students think of him as a flirt, younger ones as a mentor. Oh, and he's a Metamorphmagus, who changes his hair color on a whim and morphs different faces for anyone who asks, if he's not busy. In all, a fun, kindly sort of person who's always doing something interesting.  
  
For those in the seventh year, Teddy Lupin is, quite simply, the one who defines our years at Hogwarts.  
  
This is not written lightly, nor on single authority. With a single exception--other than Teddy--the members of the year were surprised that the assessment was even at issue.  
  
Perhaps it was partly a function of his status as the only member of his House in his year, but from the start, Teddy moved freely among the Houses--yes, my own Slytherin House as well--and because of that, we were all drawn together. It was also a function of his personality and his odd predilection for getting into the thick of anything that was happening. Those in other years may think that there was a glamor attached to him being Harry Potter's godson, but in truth, we all lost interest in that early on. It was simply that Teddy would do something, and the rest of us would find ourselves, in one way or another, carried along in the current.  
  
Teddy himself is not impressed with this analysis, claiming that it "makes [him] sound like a force of nature" rather than a person, and that he certainly never intended to make anyone feel pulled along.  
  
"I'm not anything particularly special," he says. "Just Teddy."   
  
Perhaps so, but "Just Teddy," even before Hogwarts, hadn't had a life that most of us would take as average.  
  
After the death of his parents, he was raised in the care of his grandmother, Andromeda (Black) Tonks, a representative of the divided Black family--cousin of Sirius and Regulus Black, sister of Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy... and wife of Muggle-born Seer and Healer Ted Tonks, for whom Teddy was named. Andromeda Tonks invited the young Harry Potter to stay in her home after the war, and it was in this environment that Teddy spent his early years, until Potter married Quidditch star Ginevra Weasley and moved to London. The two families remain close.  
  
The Tonks home is full of books, plants, and memories, all of which color Teddy's recollections. "I was happy," he said. "I knew I didn't have my parents, but you don't really know what that means when you're very small. Granny and Uncle Harry took care of me, and loved me, and... well, that's really what you need at when you're little, isn't it? Someone to trust."  
  
But those around him know that, even at eleven, his happiness was pulled over anger, like a sheet over a corpse. By the middle of our first year, he'd become involved in a search we didn't understand at the time, for traces of his parents and their friends. Of this, he will still tell almost nothing, though it's difficult to miss the wedding ring he wears on a chain around his neck--found that year, frozen into the mud under the north battlements, where his father fell in battle. He refuses to discuss how he found it, giving an uncharacteristically cool smile and saying, cryptically, "It was a bit of Magical Mischief." Later that year, he nearly died in a fire in the Forbidden Forest (complicated by an attack of the Red Caps which, at the time, still plagued the school).  
  
By third year, it was becoming obvious that he'd inherited some of his grandfather's skill as a Seer, though he largely rejects the term. "I can't tell fortunes," he says. "I can't See who's killing people, and I've never been able to predict anything useful to keeping myself or anyone else out of trouble." When asked what he  does do--in regard, particularly, to the discovery of the Brimmann pirate treasure--he frowns deeply, then shakes his head and says, "I can't say. It's just--" He rolls his eyes at the suggestion of the word "Seeing."  
  
As to his future, most people not close to him have assumed he would take up teaching. It is a skill he has very clearly inherited from his father, and one from which his school friends have benefited immensely. But teaching is not a career that calls him. "My father was Professor Lupin," he says. "And he was quite good enough at it that I don't need to try and outdo him." Nor is he interested in "outdoing" his mother, an Auror. Instead, his searches have led him to the Department of Mysteries, where he will apprentice on the condition that he earns the requisite N.E.W.T.s.  
  
There is, of course, one last question that must be asked of a Metamorphmagus: What on Earth do you really look like?  
  
He sighs, and says, "Well, it's a deep secret, but as you've managed to be polite... I suppose..."  
  
He makes a great show of effort, contorting his face as he is almost never seen doing. A green patch disappears from his brown hair, and waves crop up.  
  
There are no other changes.  
  
"I didn't say it was a big secret," he says.

* * *

Volume 7, Issue 13

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_27 November 2015_  
  
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**By A Thread**  
  
  
 **Donzo McCormack: A Roll of the Dice**  
Part 3 of 16

****

Perhaps it's the way he saunters in with a grin, or turns the chair around like a dancer twirling a prop. Maybe it's the way he sits on it backward, chin resting on his hand. Whatever it is, one thing is clear: Donald McCormack-Duke knows how to handle an interview.  
  
This is hardly surprising--Donzo McCormack has been performing since he was ten years old, and has been interviewed by fan magazines in sixteen countries since then. His first headlining tour this summer was sold out in most of his American venues, and he hasn't gone more than three months between hits in the three years since the release of "Into the Gray," a rock ballad that earned both critical acclaim and a substantial profit. His latest hit, "Mask," has been used as an introduction to Lee Jordan's "WizardWatch" radio show for the last two months.  
  
Given all this, he has kept a relatively low profile at Hogwarts--Head Boy and consistently near the top of the year, but otherwise a quiet presence, known for his measured and thoughtful responses in class, and his proclivity for joining the long-running game of Muggles and Minions with his friends in Hufflepuff. "That's where 'Into the Gray' came from," he says. "No one believes it, but the whole thing came from an adventure out on the moors, and the bits about rolling dice to find our fate were actually about rolling dice." He shrugs. "Maybe the critics are right, if they take it to another level and decide that the whole game is metaphorical, but they won't even believe me that the song came from a game, which seems strange to me, as lyrics are poetry, and poetry is about taking the mundane and making it profound." He gives a bright, rock star smile, as if to discount the talk of poetry and metaphor. "What do I know, though?"  
  
Born two months after the Ministry of Magic fell to Voldemort, Donzo is the eldest student in the smallest year. Born in the United States--the city of Asheville, North Carolina, to be precise--he is also one of the handful of survivors of the Death Eaters' plans at St. Mungo's.  
  
"My mother was Muggle-born," he says. "She was called in by Healers, before anyone knew what was happening, and she went. They said something might be wrong. But when she got there, she was forced into a room where they planned to terminate her pregnancy before she was taken in front of the Muggle-born Registration Commission. Luckily, word had leaked out to some American operatives--in fact, to a group of them masquerading as a band, called the Pondhoppers--and they spirited her away. I was born at their compound in Asheville, and I spent the first five years of my life in the States--sometimes in Asheville, but mainly touring with the bands, as the Pondhoppers joined my father's band, the Weird Sisters, for quite a long time. We're still very close." He looks out the window. "I think that my parents had considered staying there. They wouldn't be the only ones, I suppose. But my grandmother and my aunt were here, and they promised it was all right to come home. I think Dad missed going to their Quidditch games."   
  
Donzo's grandmother, of course, is Catriona McCormack, and his aunt is Meghan McCormack, both of whom played for the Pride of Portree. His father, Kirley, has habitually used the patronym Duke. "It's confusing," Donzo admits. "Legally, Dad and Aunt Meg are both 'McCormack Duke,' and so am I. My grandparents had a really odd arrangement that way, since Nana doesn't have any brothers. Aunt Meg went by McCormack, and Dad went by Duke. When I started performing, Dad let me choose. I decided on McCormack, since 'Donald Duke,' as I was reminded on my first day at Hogwarts, sounds unfortunately close to the name of a cartoon waterfowl." He grins. "Does that solve the great mystery?"  
  
His childhood, aside from performing and touring, was isolated. The only child in his own family, or in the social circle of the two bands, he claims not to have met another child until he arrived at Hogwarts. "It's true," he says. "I think the youngest person I knew was one of the roadies, who taught me how to play Muggles and Minions. Other than that, the only thing I knew about other kids was in the fan mail I sometimes got. None of the others in the band had children until Donaghan Tremlett's wife had a baby last year. So I had this huge complex at Weird World, and they all built it around anything they thought a child might like, and I had all the attention of half a dozen adults, and, as you might expect, I didn't come here having much of an idea how to relate to anyone else in the year. I kept accidentally name-dropping, and talking about things that didn't make sense to anyone else. Thank God Frankie Apcarne had a Muggles and Minions game going, or I probably _never_ would have learned."  
  
Whatever his social flaws, they never translated to his classes. A scion of a long line of Ravenclaws, from the start, he immersed himself in school work, making a name for himself in Charms and Transfiguration, and--to the puzzlement of his classmates--History of Magic. He shrugs at this. "What can I say? I like history. Is that a crime?"  
  
When asked what being a part of the smallest year has meant to him, he grows thoughtful. "It was an awakening," he finally answers. "Standing there, at the shore of the lake, with only four little boats aside from Hagrid's, seeing the others, knowing that it wasn't just my strange life that kept me from knowing anyone my age... it really brought things home. What in the hell did we do to ourselves here?" He shakes his head. "But at the same time, there's a sense of family that I think we have, just because there are so few of us. I think that having so few people made it possible for all of us to see each other as individuals. I can't even imagine a Gryffindor-Ravenclaw hex war in our year, and not just because of the lopsided numbers. It just wouldn't _work_. There aren't enough of us to support anything like that. You need more than fifteen people before you can split up into tribes."  
  
As to the future, he is sanguine about his continued music career. "I have what I need, even if I never have another hit," he says. "But I like what I do, and other people seem to like what I do, so I don't think I'll be retiring any time soon. And as a bonus, it doesn't require a single N.E.W.T., so I'm free to study whatever I like for as long as I like. I just submitted a paper to _Challenges in Charming_ on the character of the Patronus charm and its corporeal shapes, and I got an encouraging reply. I hope that means that I'll be able to keep studying while I sing. I'd like that, I think." He winks. "It's a roll of the dice."

****

* * *

Volume 7, Issue 14

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_4 December 2015_  
  
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**By A Thread**  
  
 **Maurice Burke: Minding Our Own Shop**  
Part 4 of 16

 

"Yes," Maurice Burke said nervously on his first night at Hogwarts, "as in Borgin and." This is a matter he discharges as quickly as possible on any first meeting, rather like explaining away an embarrassing skin condition.  
  
But although the untimely death of his cousin earlier this year leaves him in line to inherit the infamous Diagon Alley shop, Maurice is quite adamant in his refusal to have anything to do with it. "I don't feel 'never' is an extreme enough position," he answers when asked if his interest in it was likely to kindle.  
  
Quiet, small, and unassuming, Maurice seems an unlikely choice as a House champion--let alone a champion of Slytherin House, which to the world outside of Slytherin often stands for the very same things the shop does--but from the start, Maurice has been fully devoted to his House, and to its rehabilitation. From first year on, he's spearheaded an effort to keep Slytherin out of the troubles that have plagued it in the past, beginning with his admonition that Slytherin House would now solve its own problems. Raising an eyebrow and giving one of his rare, ironic grins, he says, "Perhaps I should have said that we'd be minding our own shop from now on."  
  
The Burkes are an old Slytherin family, of course--Maurice's parents, Henry and Salvina (Selwyn) Burke, were both Slytherins, as were several generations on either side. Henry Burke saw his own father, uncle, and grandfather killed in the first uprising by the followers of Voldemort, and survived only because his quick thinking Slytherin mother feigned her own death and that of the two children she was responsible for--Henry and his now-orphaned cousin, Veradisia. The three remaining Burkes took shelter in Muggle London, in a flat secured for them through Mr. Borgin's influence (Maurice wrinkles his nose at the necessity of revealing this). After the war, the cousins grew up together, and Veradisia took a post at the shop whilst Henry apprenticed as a book-keeper at Gringotts.  
  
When the second war began (as is now generally acknowledged) with the death of Cedric Diggory, Henry wasted no time on the Ministry's official version of that event. Veradisia had overheard Hogwarts students in Diagon Alley sharing Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter's version, and both cousins decided it would be wise to absent themselves from the country. Veradisia's job made her disappearance quite easy, as she traveled regularly, but Henry needed to uproot himself and his young wife. He didn't hesitate to do so, and got as far away from Britain as he could. He found a post keeping books for a Muggle inn on the Falkland Islands, and promptly removed there. It was there, in the wild and remote South Atlantic islands, that Maurice and his brother Wendell were born, and remained until Maurice's eighth year.  
  
"Dad just realized that there wasn't much of a wizarding community in Stanley--one old witch who kept chickens, really, and that was it--and that Wendell and I were growing up without meeting any other wizards. He and Mum had to keep their magic to a minimum as well, to keep from being noticed, though we sometimes did take holidays to wizarding sites. When he and Mum started thinking about school, they decided that it was time for us to get used to England. I was terrified at first. There are so many people!" He got used to the crowds quickly enough, and by the time he got to school, he'd become rather adept at reading people, much to the discomfort of some members of his House who have found themselves on the receiving end of his cool stares. He also early demonstrated a nearly eerie knowledge of the familial interrelationships in the wizarding world.  
  
"Oh, that," he says with a snort. "Well, I did spend most of the first year back at the shop, listening to Borgin natter on. I didn't have anywhere else to go while my parents were at their jobs. He always knew how everyone was connected to everyone else. There were books of it in back. It was about the only thing that interested me there. I'd just pore over those books for hours. It's really too bad that people like Voldemort and the Blacks--well, some of them--gave that sort of thing a bad name, because it really is interesting, knowing that a person you've never seen before may have the same ancestors as you do. Plus, it's always fun to tie the snootier ones to their less exalted cousins."  
  
In school, Maurice has been solidly in the middle of the year, excelling in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Arithmancy, but, as he puts it, "plodding along solidly enough" in his other classes. "I'm good with numbers and gold," he says. "I know business, and I'm quite good at working out deals that go to everyone's advantage, but none of those are taught for O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s. Since that's what I mean to do--I'm already managing financial matters for a singer we all know and are exasperated with from time to time, and I've got a few more clients in the wings when I leave school--I don't really have to excel on any of the other classes. I'll have a few N.E.W.T.s, and it's enough. I don't feel any need to complain about it being impossible to take a dozen classes these days."  
  
Has his passion for changing Slytherin faded since first year? He talks about it less than he once did, but he emphatically denies any lessening of urgency. "It's not really about changing Slytherin," he says. "It's about changing what people think of when they think of Slytherin. There was never a time when every Slytherin was somehow practicing the Dark Arts, but some of our more prominent members have certainly made it difficult to downplay that. I just want to keep the Dark Arts out of Slytherin House. Be as Slytherin as you want to be--there's nothing wrong with a good dose of ambition and cunningness--but for God's sake, you don't have to be evil. There's a difference, trust me. Evil isn't just another word for 'alternative methods.' I want people to think of Slytherin House as--well, not evil. I suppose as... a House full of people who can get things done." He shrugs. "That's not going to happen if we don't absolutely sever the connection between the House and the Dark Arts." He smiles faintly. "So I'll have to continue minding the shop, won't I?"

* * *

Volume 7, Issue 15

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_11 December 2015_  
  
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**By A Thread**  
  
 **Corky Atkinson: A Normal Life**  
Part 5 of 16

It's difficult to miss Corin Atkinson--at six feet, six inches in height, he towers over most other students and teachers. His easy, fair-minded manner as a prefect have earned him the affection of younger students, like third year Neil Overby, who says, "Corky's everyone's big brother, but especially mine. I can always tell him anything."  
  
"He said that?" Corky asks, looking pleased. "That's cool. I never was anyone's big brother. I think of myself as a little brother. And I promise, my sister thinks of me that way, too, and never lets me forget it."  
  
In fact, when asked what his most important role is, he is quick to say that it is being a brother to his beloved older sister Tessa, a Squib who attends a Muggle university in southern Ontario and plans to become an actress. Tessa is equally devoted to him. "Are you kidding me?" she asks. "Before he turned into a giant, he was about the size of a pygmy puff, and someone had to scare off the neighborhood bullies."  
  
Unlike the other seventh year students who were born abroad, Corky didn't land in Canada as the endpoint of a daring rescue, or as a precaution taken by parents whose foresight was sharper than most. His mother, Eleanor Gamp, married Corin "Hutch" Atkinson in 1990, and the family had been living in Wychwood, Ontario, for several years when the war broke out. While the events may have been a matter of discussion in the Atkinson home, there had never been a plan to return to Britain in the first place, so there wasn't anything for the war to disrupt.  
  
"We had a normal life," Corky says. "I went to a Muggle school as soon as I learned to control my accidental magic--I couldn't have been older than six--and I played sports, wizard and Muggle. We watched Quidditch in Toronto, and Flooed down to Buffalo a few times a year to catch Quadpot games. I played a little Quadpot with some friends, and a lot of hockey. We travelled a little bit, saw a few things. Dad liked to fish, but we never did catch much. When I was eight, Mom bought a cabin on Lake Erie so we could go there in the summers. I was really little, and I sometimes got into fights, but there was never anything bad." So why come to Hogwarts, instead of attending Snowleaf, the well-regarded Canadian school of witchcraft and wizardry in Nunavut? "I flipped a coin when the letters came," Corky says, then amends, "Oh, fine, my mother said that she got a lot of detention at Hogwarts, and I couldn't imagine a place where my well-behaved mother would always get detention. She forgot to tell me that she was a hellion when she was here."  
  
"Hellion" may be something of a strong word, but Eleanor Gamp's name is found in more than one of the detention files kept by Argus Filch--considerably more files than her son's name. Corky hasn't, in his time at Hogwarts, been particularly prone to the trouble his friends and yearmates have got into, and has rarely had more than one detention in a year.

 

"Quite disappointing, really," he says. "But the opportunities just didn't come up often, even with Teddy, Maurice, Donzo, and certain editors of some school papers tugging me toward trouble." He winks.  
  
He is an odd sort of Slytherin--not only not prone to trouble, but also known for his fair-mindedness and honesty. He admits that the Sorting Hat initially considered placing him in Hufflepuff, and is not entirely sure why it ultimately chose Slytherin. "My mother was a Slytherin," he muses, "but not all of the Gamps have been. Maybe the Hat just realized that, if there's a short way and a long way to do a job, presuming that the outcomes are equal, I'll always choose the short way. 'Work smarter, not harder,' isn't really a Hufflepuff motto." In the end, he admits that he just doesn't know.  
  
As a student, he has excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Ancient Runes, but has gained the most attention as a fact-checker for the Weekly Charmer, a capacity he has served in for most of his six and a half years at Hogwarts, after an unfortunate incident of misquoting in an early issue necessitated the creation of that position. Does this suggest a future in journalism?  
  
"Not a chance in hell." He grins broadly. "I'll leave that to my more esteemed colleagues; it's up their alley. After this year, I'm putting up my little magnifying glass and getting out of the newspaper business."  
  
What he does plan to do with his life is more of a mystery, and one he hasn't frequently discussed. He winces when the subject comes up. "This is where I prove I'm a particularly bad Slytherin. I didn't have any grand plan going into my O.W.L.s--I just wanted to see how I'd do, and then take the N.E.W.T.s, only the ones I did well in don't really match each other." Surely, he has some notion. "Oh, I have an idea," he said. "I can think of certain parties in my life who might not like it, though, so I'll keep it to myself until I'm sure."  
  
Some light might be shed on the mystery by owls arriving nearly every week bearing the Snowleaf seal. Though he momentarily argues that the letters are private, he finally concedes that nearly everyone at the Slytherin table has already seen them. "Well," he says, "I guess the secret's out. I'm going to coach a hockey team made up of enchanted caribou. Snowleaf meant to keep it a secret, it's going to be a great fundraiser." He grins, and doesn't offer a more realistic explanation, though the receipt of letters from a school during a time when seventh years are seeking apprenticeships would suggest nothing less honorable than a future in teaching, to which it is hardly possible for "other parties" to object.  
  
"Even in Nunavut?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.  
  
This, on the other hand, could give them second thoughts.


	12. The Trio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home for Christmas, Teddy discovers that Harry, Ron, and Hermione haven't exactly been idle on the case Ron and Harry have supposedly recused themselves from.

Being tall was an advantage at King's Cross, and Teddy used it to wade through the crowd to where Uncle Harry, Lily, and James were all waiting. They were harder to find, as, at some point, Lily had come down from Uncle Harry's shoulders, leaving them well below the average head in the crowd. Maurice--who was not height-advantaged--followed him, dragging Wendell along, hoping that Teddy would spot their parents on the way.  
  
"Sorry," Teddy said. "I didn't see them."  
  
"Who are you looking for?" Uncle Harry asked.  
  
"My mum and dad," Maurice said.  
  
"Maybe they forgot," Wendell suggested.  
  
"No, we didn't forget!"  
  
Teddy looked over his shoulder and saw the Burkes, winding through the crowd with pleased smiles on their faces. Henry looked like an older version of Maurice--dark-haired and sharp-faced, with thin and pale lips and small dark eyes. Salvina was wispy and pale, with silvery blond hair that made Teddy wonder if she might be related to the Malfoys on one line or another. She ran forward and hugged Maurice enthusiastically (Maurice looked like a martyr being dragged to his death), then turned her attention on Wendell, who took it better.  
  
"It's a good thing you have tall friends," Henry said, shaking Maurice's hand vigorously. "I spotted Teddy and wondered if you were there." He noticed Uncle Harry for the first time and nodded with nervous politeness. "Mr. Potter. I, er... it's good to see you again. Happy Christmas." He held out his hand.  
  
Uncle Harry shook it. "Well, it's certainly a happier circumstance this time. We're having a bit of a welcome home party back at my home tonight, if your family would care to join us."  
  
"Er... No, thank you. Really." Mr. Burke looked a little embarrassed. "That is, we haven't had either of the boys for so long that we'd like to get the flat filled as soon as we can."  
  
Uncle Harry laughed, and gave Lily a little hug. "I understand completely. When all of mine are off at school, I think I'll need to borrow the neighbors' children just to keep from going spare."  
  
"But Teddy will be back by then," Lily said. "He can keep you company."  
  
"Teddy will be a grown-up by then, Lily," James said, then looked at Uncle Harry in his most helpful way. "Maybe _he'll_ have children you could borrow," he suggested.  
  
Uncle Harry looked as green as Teddy felt and said, "Let's not rush things, James."  
  
"And on that note," Mr. Burke said, looking just as spooked, which at least seemed to break the nervousness, "I think I shall bring my boys home while they are still boys. Even if one of them is of age."  
  
Teddy and Maurice said a quick goodbye, and Lily grabbed Teddy's hand happily (James gave him a manly nod, and merely stuck close by). Teddy Charmed his trunk to follow the family as they left the station. "Where's Granny?"  
  
"Al has a miserable cold," Uncle Harry said. "She's been looking after him, and he was quite emphatic that Dad was expendable, but he had to have his Grannydromeda." They got outside and headed for the car. "She's gloating, I think. When you were small, you always wanted me to be the one to stay home."  
  
"Well, she wasn't nearly as good at dragon-hunting." They reached the car, and Teddy put his trunk in the boot. "What about Aunt Ginny?"  
  
"Oh, everyone's at the house; she and Ron and Hermione are setting up the party." He got Lily and James secured in the car, and went around to sit behind the wheel. It would have looked odd, had anyone been paying attention, as he had no keys--he just tapped the ignition with his wand and the car drove itself toward Grimmauld Place, leaving him free to talk. "I've been getting my edition of the _Charmer_."  
  
"Oh, God."  
  
He laughed.  
  
James leaned forward and stuck his head between the front seats. "I read the story about you. You didn't say anything about the book!"  
  
"A pen name isn't going to do us much good if we tell everyone about it."  
  
"Oh." James frowned. "Well, I guess it's more fun that way. Like a secret identity."  
  
"It's a Marauder name."  
  
"No it isn't. A Marauder name would be something like 'Quills' or 'Scribbler.' 'Jim Wolf' is just a secret name."  
  
"That's a good point. Are you sure you want to keep it secret? If you don't, I suppose we could just--"  
  
"No, secrets are good."  
  
"Secrets are stupid," Lily opined from behind Uncle Harry's seat.  
  
James turned to glare at her. "They are not."  
  
"It depends on the secret," Uncle Harry said calmly, "so you're both right and needn't argue."  
  
This averted a quarrel for perhaps ten seconds, when Lily expanded her thought to say that secret _writing names_ were stupid, and James countered that she didn't know anything about anything, and started angrily listing famous pseudonymous authors, both Muggle and magical. Uncle Harry rolled his eyes and let them at it. He waved his wand and muttered, " _Muffliato_ ," then looked at Teddy. "I think they actually _like_ arguing," he said. "I don't understand it, but I can't seem to stop them."  
  
Teddy, whose only experience of family close to his own age was with the older Weasley girls, just shrugged. Victoire and Marie seemed to spend half their time screaming at one another as well, and it didn't make any more sense to him.  
  
They got to Grimmauld Place only a minute later. Teddy sent his trunk ahead to the house without bothering to take it out of the boot, and snatched up Lily in the middle of a trenchant point about James's unsatisfactory grooming habits. "Can we let it go for now?" he asked. "I've heard a rumor of a party."  
  
Lily stuck her tongue out at James once, then said, "Fine."  
  
"Good," Teddy said, and put her down. He took her hand as they crossed the square to the house. James pulled one of her pigtails, then she took his hand with her free one, and let them swing her over a garden gnome by the gate (Teddy crouched to keep them at a somewhat closer height for this).  
  
Inside, Teddy was pummeled by small Weasleys--Freddie, Rosie, and Hugo--and greeted from a distance by Al, who looked down from the second floor and waved. Steam was coming from his ears and his nose was bright red. Granny tightened a blanket around him and came downstairs to throw her arms around Teddy.  
  
"Oh, it's so good to see you! Dear God, you look like your father these days... right down to the robes, what on earth have you been doing? You can afford some decent robes. How's school? Happy Christmas!"  
  
Teddy laughed and hugged her. "I've missed you, too, Granny. My robes aren't that bad."  
  
She frowned. "Teddy, they look like you've been scrubbing floors on your knees in them. And they're too short." She shook her head. "Oh, never mind, you look wonderful!" She hugged him again.  
  
Teddy, now self-conscious about his robes (they had a few frayed spots from various school scrapes, and he hadn't thought anything of them this morning, but now they looked horrible), went upstairs to change into jeans, and by the time he got down, dinner was served. Rosie, who had obviously been reading the newspapers, tried to bring up the Needle's Eye case (she wanted to know how things were at Hogwarts after Fudge's body was found), but Hermione shushed her. Ron and Uncle Harry looked uneasy.  
  
George and his family left after supper, and Teddy helped Aunt Ginny in the kitchen. He assumed Ron and Hermione would go as well, but when he finished up, the Potter and Weasley cousins were deeply involved in a long game, and showed no signs of even getting ready for bed. Granny was lazily Conjuring monsters for them to defeat while she read an old book from the parlor.  
  
Aunt Ginny watched them for a minute, looked around the room, then rolled her eyes.  
  
"What is it?" Teddy asked.  
  
"The three of them," she said. "Honestly, being off the case has them acting like they're back at Hogwarts, trying to get around Snape to win the day."  
  
"They're working the case?"  
  
"Every time they're together."  
  
"I'm surprised you're not in the thick of it."  
  
She pushed a thick curtain of red hair behind her ear and sat down. "You know your godfather, Teddy. He's going to do things his way." She smirked. "Though I'm half tempted to hunt up Neville and Luna and see if we can beat them to it."  
  
Teddy smiled and went upstairs, meaning to get some homework from his trunk. He wasn't sure if he and Granny would be staying with the Potters this holiday--it had become something of a habit, but it wasn't set in stone--but he could at least use the time to get started on his History of Magic assignment. He'd need to find people to interview. Hermione might be able to help there, as she'd worked with rehabilitating some of the wandless after the war, but he still wanted to avoid using family connections as much as was humanly possible, given his family in the era he was studying. There were others, too, and it was as good a time as any to start the list of who he'd want to talk to, and--  
  
The door to Uncle Harry's study was ajar.  
  
"..and that's what I keep coming back to," Uncle Harry was saying. "I trust everyone's alibis. Everyone who makes even a little bit of sense. There's not a hole in any of them."  
  
"Then it must be someone who doesn't make sense," Ron said. "I mean, someone who'll make sense later, I reckon, but no one we'd think of."  
  
Teddy saw a flash of Hermione's frizzy brown hair as she passed the door, headed for Uncle Harry's bookshelf. "There's got to be--" She stopped, and leaned back, a brown eye appearing in the thin edge of the open door. "Teddy!" she said.  
  
"Sorry," he said. "You forgot the Muffling Charm."  
  
She opened the door. "No, I didn't. Come in."

Teddy hesitated at the door and looked to Uncle Harry.  
  
Uncle Harry looked decidedly displeased, but sighed and said, "It's your holiday, Teddy. You don't need to be involved, but..." He sighed. "Come in if you'd like."  
  
Teddy went in.  
  
Hermione shut the door. "I was hoping you'd come by. Harry told us what you saw in the way the victims were killed--Goyle as a bully, Fudge being blind and so on."  
  
"It wasn't _seeing_ , just--"  
  
"Yes, we know you're particular about that word," Ron said, giving him a grin. "Nice article, by the way."  
  
"Does _everyone_ read the _Charmer_?"  
  
"Everyone with children at Hogwarts," Hermione said, obviously annoyed at the distraction.  
  
"Or apprentices who attach it the walls of their cubicles at work," Ron said.  
  
Teddy groaned, then looked at Hermione. "Is there anything new?"  
  
"Letters to the _Prophet_ ," she said.  
  
"I've been reading..."  
  
"Not ones that have been published."  
  
"Rita Skeeter turned over letters?"  
  
Hermione let out a harsh bark of a laugh. "Not likely. We have a mole at the _Prophet_. I had a feeling we might see some of this, so I had Dennis Creevey start intercepting the post before it got to Rita, since Ginny's not there often enough not to be noticed. I told him to pull out anything suspicious."  
  
"Dennis Creevey?"  
  
"Colin Creevey's brother. He works there."  
  
"I know, but... Colin Creevey died in the war, didn't he? He was a Muggle-born and Runcorn was after them. Wouldn't his brother be, er, a..."  
  
"Suspect?" Uncle Harry finished. "Trust me, it occurred to us. And to Dennis. He came in and gave his alibi without waiting to be asked, like your grandmother did. He and Alicia were actually in Morocco at the time Runcorn died. There are photos, and a lot of witnesses."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Good thinking, though," Hermione said. "Anyway, I asked Dennis to help us."  
  
"Did the murderer write?"  
  
"I don't know." She pointed her wand at Uncle Harry's desk, and a stack of letters came over. "I wondered if you could pick anything up."  
  
"I can't read objects..."  
  
"You can _read_ , Teddy," she said, smiling faintly. "I'm not a great fan of Divination. I just thought you might see patterns, like you did with Goyle's hands being cut off, or Fudge's eyes being forced open."  
  
Teddy took the letters and started to scan them. It was easy enough to see why Creevey had chosen them; they were quite mad, the lot of them. Most were anonymous. Some were suggesting that God had sent an angel to purge what the corrupt government had allowed to remain, and those were the saner ones. One proposed that Anthony Goldstein was exerting pressure to keep the Death Eaters alive ("You know how clannish _they_ are," the writer added without explanation), and another saw a vast international conspiracy, possibly spearheaded by Uncle Harry, being fought by a brave underground fighter. Teddy Summoned a quill and began to circle phrases that jumped out at him amidst the lunacy.  
  
 _...I stand with this new knight..._  
  
 _...the Ministry is blind, like it was always blind, and finally someone sees..._  
  
 _...We'll drive them out of their dank little holes and this time, they won't get away..._  
  
He winced at the last one. It sounded like Geoffrey, but the handwriting wasn't his.  
  
"Did you find something?" Hermione asked.  
  
He shook his head. "No. I've been hearing a lot of this, but I don't think it's our friend. Too impersonal. The murders are personal." He looked up, suddenly remembering that he was speaking to Hermione, not to Ruthless and Donzo. "At least, er, that's what I think."  
  
"I think you're right," Uncle Harry said, taking the letter, "but this is disturbing in itself."  
  
"People have a sovereign right to be disturbing," Hermione said.  
  
Teddy went back to the letters.  
  
Madness, paranoia. A few had tales to tell of the deceased. One was a woman who had lost her child in the St. Mungo's murders after Runcorn had revealed her fraudulent papers, and she raved madly for five pages about dark shadows coming up from the sewers and mighty swords striking down the untrue. Teddy felt sorry for her. She obviously felt persecuted, but nothing she wrote suggested that she'd reached the stage of taking things into her own hands. More than one letter came from people who had to have been in school with Uncle Harry, as they were quite vehement in their belief that Gregory Goyle had no business being employed by Hogwarts anyway, after all the petty torments he'd put them through.  
  
"Goyle?" Ron shrugged. "He was a lump. He did what Malfoy told him. I don't remember him doing anything on his own."  
  
Teddy waved a handful of letters. "Well, these people do. But they don't say anything about Runcorn or Fudge."  
  
Finally he narrowed it down to seven letters that did mention all three victims. None gave details about the crimes, so there was no real giveaway in them.  
  
"Anything?" Uncle Harry asked.  
  
Teddy frowned. "They all seem to agree that Goyle was in a job he didn't deserve, Fudge's obstructionism aided Voldemort and put Dolores Umbridge in a position of power, and Runcorn was an all-around demon."  
  
"Umbridge, of course," Hermione said. "She was Fudge's right arm, and moved right on to running the trials. And she's in Azkaban where they can't get at her."  
  
"Doesn't make sense of the paddock," Uncle Harry said.  
  
"It put you off the case," Teddy told him, looking at the other letters. "A lot of them are angry at _you_ for not avenging them or whatnot."  
  
"Bloody brilliant," Ron said. "A purge. Why didn't we think of that, Harry? I mean, aside from the fact that we're not complete nutters."  
  
"Who says I didn't _think_ of it?" Uncle Harry muttered.  
  
Teddy looked back at the letters. "A couple of them say things along the line of you doing nothing while people were dying." He stopped, wondering if he'd sounded quite this mad when he and Uncle Harry had been quarreling. He looked up at Uncle Harry guiltily, and Uncle Harry smiled faintly and shook his head. Teddy went back to the letters. "Here's one--it says, 'And now we're here again. The vile murderers are walking the streets, and Harry Potter is doing nothing about it, just as he did nothing while Fudge turned the Ministry into a dictatorship, just as he did nothing while Rufus Scrimgeour whored his reputation out to keep people trusting that institution instead of actually reforming it to fight, and just as he did nothing all year after the Dark Lord took over the Ministry and Hogwarts and began murdering in earnest. Only this time, we're not going to sit and wait for him.'"  
  
"All that doing nothing was very tiring, as I recall," Uncle Harry said dryly.  
  
Teddy held out the letter he'd read from. "I think this one might be him."  
  
"Does it have something about the needle's eye and the camel?" Hermione asked.  
  
"All of them do," Teddy said. "It's a theme."  
  
"Then why this one?" She read it over. "It doesn't say anything about who he's avenging, or what his goals are. It doesn't have any of the details of the murders."  
  
Teddy shrugged. "There's just something about it. Look at the beginning, where he's talking about Runcorn. He--or maybe it's a she--starts off talking about the release of the prisoners. None of the others say anything about that. But this one's obsessed with it. How they're walking the streets. So... isn't that what started it? Runcorn being released?"  
  
"It could have been the trigger," Uncle Harry said. "But Goyle and Fudge weren't locked up, so they were hardly released."  
  
"Once he started, it got easier," Hermione said. "Right, Teddy?"  
  
"I don't know. I'm just guessing."  
  
"What are you guessing?"  
  
Teddy thought about it. "I guess... yes. He waited for Runcorn, but once he'd murdered one person, there wasn't anything stopping him anymore." An image of Greyback, falling back through the fire, bursting into flame, intruded in Teddy's mind. He shut it out. "He tried it once and decided he liked it, so he started in on the others. Even if he had to make up a justification for it."  
  
Hermione got out several scrolls and started making notes in a profile she was writing, and Teddy settled in to a conversation with Ron and Uncle Harry about matters that were deliberately separate from the murders. ("We always do this," Ron said. "None of wants to go to bed still thinking about this.")  
  
At nearly midnight, Ron and Hermione gathered their sleeping children and left. Teddy ascertained from Granny that they'd be staying here at least until Christmas Day, then went up to James's room, where a camp bed had been set up. James, to his surprise, was still up, writing furiously.  
  
"New story?"  
  
James looked up. "Yeah. Can we go see the illustrations tomorrow? I've been waiting for you." He blinked owlishly, and Teddy realized that they hadn't spent five minutes together since the car.  
  
"We'll go first thing," he said. "I need to do some Christmas shopping, too. Want to come along?"  
  
"You don't have to take me," James said. "I guess you're doing important things with Dad and Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione."  
  
"None of which are Christmas shopping." Teddy grabbed a few finished pages from beside James's hand. "Can I read?"  
  
James grinned and nodded.  
  
Teddy settled into a tale of Martian the cat, who joined his sister Checkmate--who was working on a very important job now--to rescue a redheaded princess named Naomi (Teddy had suggested this name when the princess had first started appearing in James's stories) from an evil troll. James handed him pages as he finished, and Teddy was glad that it was this writing, and not the mad letters, that finally carried him off to sleep.

He woke up early the next morning, his mind having gone back, at some point, to the letters he'd read. The words chased each other around in his brain--the paranoid ravings, the sad madness in some of them, and the cold cruelty in the one he'd found himself most drawn to. He talked to Uncle Harry briefly before work, but there wasn't any time to really study it, and Uncle Harry very clearly wanted him to take a holiday ("You won't have many more that really are just yours, Teddy--for God's sake, just let it go"). Teddy forced it out of his brain as well as he could.  
  
By eight-thirty, this had been made easier by James, who woke up quite eager to go to Diagon Alley and see the illustrations Frankie had arranged. Teddy sent his Patronus to Frankie, who was apparently already up and at the Charmpress offices, as he immediately sent back a response inviting them to come down immediately. James got dressed, forced some Pepper-Up potion on Al (he considered this his duty as a brother), then essentially dragged Teddy out the door and down to the Disapparition point. Teddy pulled him along to Diagon Alley, and they walked to Charmpress together, enjoying the cold December morning and the decorations on every side. They got to the office at nine o'clock, and James stopped dead when he walked through the door.  
  
"What's that?" he asked, staring at the wall with a variety of bemused horror on his face.  
  
"Funny you should ask," Frankie said, grinning over his shoulder at the nearly wall-sized ever-fresh bouquet of pink roses that was enclosed behind glass there. "It has a great deal to do with our topic of discussion."  
  
"Our book has rose pictures in it?" James asked. "You can't be serious! It's an adventure!"  
  
Frankie laughed. "No, not a rose in sight, except in the garden when Martian's looking for the secret door, and I promise, it's in the background."  
  
Teddy looked at it. "Dare I ask?"  
  
Frankie slipped down behind his desk, where a stack of pages was sitting underneath dramatic draping. "Nothing dreadful," he said. "Lavender Brown brought by the roses two months ago, from Fifi LaFolle."  
  
"That's not entirely reassuring."  
  
"I thought you'd like the connection," Frankie said, grinning. "I know how you love Fifi."  
  
James turned on Teddy, looking betrayed. "Fifi _LaFolle_?"  
  
"She writes good adventures," Teddy said. "And my mum liked her."  
  
"Still..."  
  
"Anyway," Frankie said, "Lavender said that Fifi's current cover artist was interested in branching out, and I met with him, and he liked the idea of doing a children's book."  
  
Teddy looked suspiciously at the pages. He knew Frankie was just trying to get a rise out of him with the extended reveal, but a part of him had images of Checkmate being drawn in a dress with her chest fur poking up out of a ripped neckline, while the skirt was artfully ripped up to her hips and a constant breeze fluttered through her suddenly long and luxurious coat.  
  
Frankie laughed and gave his wand a theatrical whirl. The draping fell away.  
  
James's bemusement turned to delight as Frankie showed them each page of _Martian's Mistake_. The illustrator, Gray Kalais, had done some anthropomorphizing to allow for the action of the story (James's Martian stories just weren't possible with actual feline anatomy), but he'd obviously watched cats for a very long time. Their expressions were exaggerations of looks Teddy had frequently seen on Checkmate's face, and when they dropped into feline poses, the details were perfect. The world he'd put them in was lush and green, and when they found the secret door that led to the underworld where all lost things might be found, he'd created a treasure trove that fit perfectly into James's version of the world.  
  
"Well?" Frankie asked. "What's the world from Jim Wolf?"  
  
"He approves," James said. "Well, the Jim half does. How about the Wolf?"  
  
"The Wolf concurs," Teddy said.  
  
"Then we're set."  
  
"When can we buy it?" James asked.  
  
"I was hoping for a Christmas release, but it's not going to happen."  
  
"Well, Teddy couldn't come home to look until now," James said.  
  
"Mm. I have to admit, if I'd thought we could get it out there for the season, I wouldn't have gone through this pantomime. I'd have just mailed it to him at Hogwarts and showed it to you at home. There were a lot of other things to do." He showed Teddy an incomprehensible list. "You've nearly met your advance in pre-sales to Flourish and Blotts and a few other sellers, since you wouldn't take more than a pittance. You need to get Maurice to negotiate the next one."  
  
"The next one?" James asked.  
  
"I think we have a niche," Frankie said. "There aren't that many wizarding children's books out there, Martin Miggs and Beadle the Bard aside."  
  
"Can we do a long one, a real book?" James looked again at the illustrations. "We could do a whole Marauder adventure, where they have a Map, but it's not just Hogwarts, it's the whole world, and they can jump into it anywhere they like." He looked at Teddy. "Er... if you want to. It might take a long time."  
  
"I'm not going anywhere," Teddy said. "But I think Frankie meant another cat book."  
  
"Write what you want. If it's good, I want the first shot at it."  
  
They spent most of the morning celebrating. Frankie also gave them framed prints of the cover of the book, signed by Kalais, and when they went back to Grimmauld Place, Aunt Ginny made a great show of hanging it up across the entrance hall from Mad Auntie's portrait. Sirius immediately crossed the frame (Teddy hadn't been sure he'd be able to, but it apparently wasn't even an issue) and started exploring the cheerful garden, and James--the earlier James--followed a moment later and pantomimed joining the hunt the cats were engaged in. Kalais had drawn a magnifying glass for Checkmate, and Sirius peered through it theatrically.  
  
"We're writing about the lot of you next," Teddy's James told them.  
  
"I want a sword," Sirius said, and this led to an increasingly bizarre list of requests for props and adventures (Dad appeared at some point and insisted that they had to go to Greenland, and James wanted a broomstick that went faster than Muggle jets) that was still going on when Aunt Ginny called everyone to lunch. Teddy threatened to trap all of them in a Siberian ice cave if they didn't let up on the demands, but this just turned into a discussion of how they'd escape and what adventures were to be had in Siberia, which was continued in a still-life in the kitchen while everyone else ate. James--the younger version--had entirely lost the melancholy Teddy had seen descending last night.  
  
"Thank you for that," Aunt Ginny said, nodding at James as Teddy helped her clean up. "He's been feeling out of sorts about not going to Hogwarts this year, and he's been quite obsessed with the idea that you're never going to come around now that you're an adult."  
  
Teddy set a brush to scrub a cauldron and said, "It'll take more than a birthday or two to get rid of me."  
  
"For the record, you might want to impress the same thing on your godfather. Not that I've noticed any quasi-bereaved sighs coming from that direction, of course."  
  
Teddy nodded.  
  
Aunt Ginny finished putting away the bread and sandwich things, then said, "I understand Hermione dragged you kicking and screaming into a case you clearly didn't want to waste your holiday on."  
  
"Oh. Right. I fought hard, but she pulled me in anyway."  
  
"I guessed as much." She grinned. It was one of the few expressions that seemed to have passed identically to James from either of his parents. "Ron's impressed with you. He really wants you in the Division."  
  
"I'll be more use where I'm going. And less of a bother to Ruthless and her new boyfriend."  
  
"Yes, that's an important consideration." She rolled her eyes extravagantly.  
  
Teddy shrugged.  
  
They finished up, and Teddy went back up to Uncle Harry's study. The letters were locked away, and he wasn't about to go searching for them, so he Conjured a copy of the one that had got his attention last night, and read it several times. He couldn't name what it was that had made his hair stand on end about it; most of what he'd told Hermione had been after-the-fact justification. Something about it had just stood out. It didn't sound especially insane in comparison to the others, and that might have been a part of it. There was something rational and methodical about the list of complaints, as if the writer had been doing no more than stating the obvious.  
  
He put the Conjured copy in his pocket, and let his mind turn it over this way and that for an hour or so. The children wanted a lesson of some sort (they loved getting Teddy to play school with them), so he put together an impromptu class on Hairy McBoons, which was a great success, but beneath it, things kept ticking away. At about three o'clock, he decided he needed some air, and before he'd made it down half a street, he ducked into an alley and Disapparated to France.  
  
Père Alderman's little church was nestled near the bottom of a mountain, and it had a walled garden around a tiny graveyard. Teddy could see branches rustling near the top of the wall, so he transformed into a hawk and flew over it, landing on a little stone bench.  
  
Alderman had heated the garden enough to work without a coat, and was presently mucking about in the dirt under the shrubbery. He looked up briefly, noticed Teddy--still in a hawk's body--and shook his head. "You know, civilized people knock."  
  
Teddy transformed back. "Sorry--I didn't think you'd hear me out here. Can I help?"  
  
Alderman nodded. "We had to move a few of these shrubs while they were doing work on the steeple--did you see it, by the way?" He pointed, and Teddy saw that the entire steeple had been re-done, and aged to look authentic. "Thank you, by the way."  
  
"Sure. It looks good."  
  
"Blondin's crew does good work." He turned back to the shrub. "But there was a little necessary upset while they were working. I haven't been able to get these properly re-planted. This is where a few Herbology classes would have been helpful."  
  
"If we can't do it, we should get Victoire. She can get anything to grow."  
  
"I'll keep it in mind."  
  
They worked for a while without talking, and Teddy thought by the end of it that they'd got the plant secure and feeding properly, though it was hard to tell.  
  
Alderman stood up. "So, to what do I owe the visit?"  
  
"You listen to a lot of people--"  
  
"And I can't share what any of them say."  
  
"Of course not!" Teddy handed him the Conjured letter, then did as well as he could from memory to get samples of the others. "I just thought you might be able to help me spot the difference between this one"--he pointed to the first letter--"and the rest."  
  
Alderman sat on the bench and read through them. "These are all ugly," he said.  
  
"Yeah." Teddy sat down beside him. "But that one, that first one, seems worse. I can't put my finger on why."  
  
"You can't?"  
  
"Well, it sounds more rational..."  
  
"It sounds like things you've said yourself." Alderman considered this, then folded the letter and gave it back. "And that's why you're really here, isn't it?"


	13. Christmas With Clan Scrimgeour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy's Christmas is interrupted by the discovery that Ruthless's post-Hogwarts life isn't entirely ideal... and then by something considerably worse.

"What?" Teddy asked. "No, I just wondered--"  
  
Alderman rolled his eyes. "Really, Teddy, lying to a priest in a churchyard..."  
  
Teddy sighed. "Fine. All right, yes, last night, when we were talking, I was reading it out loud, and it sounded like something I said when I was angry at Uncle Harry." He winced. "Twice, really. When we were quarreling last year, I said only he and Voldemort had to die that night, and he hadn't done anything, and... that sort of thing. And when we were fixing the Shrieking Shack, I told him he cared more about Snape than my parents."  
  
"Yes, I can see you're well on your way to Azkaban."  
  
"Malfoy thinks I'm a good candidate to recruit as a Dark wizard."  
  
"Interesting choice of mentor."  
  
Teddy frowned. "You think I'm making it up."  
  
"Not at all."  
  
"It's really not why I came, though. It's just something that went through my head. And I thought he was just warming up, and said that he killed someone once and got to like it--"  
  
"And visions of Greyback danced through your head."  
  
"Just for a second."  
  
"You have to let that go," Alderman said. "I'm not talking as your priest. As your priest, as far as I'm concerned you've confessed, done penance and been absolved. I'm saying it as one of Greyback's victims, and one of his pack. There was no way you were both going to walk out of the Shrieking Shack that night."  
  
"He said he was going to kidnap me and turn me at the full moon, so I'd have had a whole week to think of something else."  
  
"All right, he might have died a week later, if your godfather hadn't killed him for trying to take you. The pack would have taken him down somehow."  
  
"The pack?"  
  
"Yes, Teddy. Do you think your name has to be Lupin, Potter, or Black to have melodramatic revenge fantasies?"  
  
"No, of course not."  
  
Alderman held out his hand, and Teddy put the letter back into it. After scanning it again, Alderman said, "This man doesn't sound nearly as mad as you did."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You were a fifteen year old throwing an adolescent tantrum because the person you admire most in the world didn't do things the way you wanted him to."  
  
"Thanks a lot."  
  
"It's not an insult, it's a fact. You were angry. You screamed and kicked and said any hurtful thing you could think of." He looked at the letter. "But this one--he's been thinking about it. Turning it over in his head. Once you calmed down, you realized that no one, including Harry, is ever going to be perfect. You know that you didn't react perfectly under pressure. You understood--once you'd calmed down--that things get out of control sometimes, and perfect hindsight doesn't change anything. This man--or woman, I suppose--has calmly decided that Harry _should_ have controlled things, that the Death Eaters and collaborators should have been killed or dispossessed, that the entire ministry"--Alderman squinted at the letter--"whored itself out under Scrimgeour. Is your friend Ruth watching her back?"  
  
"Yes. And she has a new boyfriend watching it, too."  
  
"Hmm." Alderman read the letter again. "He's taken the power away from Harry, or thinks he has. It's not much different from cutting off Goyle's hands, except that Harry's still alive at the end of it, and apparently sneaking around again. The killer seems to want to purify things as well. Purifying is always a nasty business." He gave the letter back.  
  
Teddy Vanished it. "I suppose that's all. Sorry. I should have called."  
  
"I never mind a visit."  
  
"Maybe I should confess that I really hate Ruthless's boyfriend, as long as I'm here."  
  
Alderman didn't laugh. "You can if you want to."  
  
"I think I just did. I don't even know him and I hate him, and I hate that she's his middle-of-the-night _alibi_."  
  
"'He that is without sin among you..."  
  
"Yes, I know. I'm not casting stones."  
  
"Really?"  
  
Teddy nodded. "Really. I'm making a real effort not to throw stones. It's her life, her choice. I just feel lousy about it. Can I have some penance on that?"  
  
"Well, it's not a ritual-perfect Confession, but I think I could give you something. If you'd like to do something more formal..."  
  
"No, not yet."  
  
Alderman nodded and gave him some prayers to say. Teddy went into the church, said them, and didn't feel that much better after it, though at least he felt he'd been honest. He said goodbye to Alderman and went back to England.  
  
Over the next few days, Teddy read more letters Dennis Creevey salvaged, looked over more profiles that Hermione had been compiling, and even went into the Department of Mysteries to use the Mind Tank to see if anything coalesced. Nothing did, but he did have a nice lunch with Maddie and Mr. Croaker, and finished his Christmas shopping.  
  
James woke him on Friday, Christmas morning, by dropping a pile of packages on his feet.  
  
Teddy rubbed his eyes. "Am I meant to be up for something? Some little..."  
  
"Shut up. Presents." James handed him a flat package. "Here."  
  
Curiously, Teddy opened it. It was a framed photograph of the pair of them on the day they'd got Checkmate and Martian. Teddy had been eleven and about to head off for Hogwarts, and James had been four. He'd been spinning a tale of sea monsters on Mars, and when he'd got a kitten, it had immediately become Martian Seamonster Potter, though Teddy was, as far as he knew, the only one who'd been following his babbling enough that day to make sense of it. In the picture, they had their kittens held up to the camera, and Teddy was turning his hair colors to amuse James, while James was looking up with a great and admiring smile. On the frame were pictures of the cats from the illustrations in _Martian's Mistake_.  
  
Teddy grinned. "This is great."  
  
"I asked Uncle Charlie for it when we visited. Bought the frame, got Frankie to Charm the pictures onto it. I reckoned it was the first cat story, that day."  
  
"It's going on my wall. Beside the drawing you did for me that year."  
  
"Can't it go up _instead_?"  
  
"Not a chance. I love that drawing."  
  
James shook his head in a disgusted way and said, "I'm never giving you anything ever again."  
  
They opened most of the rest of their presents together.

Downstairs, Uncle Harry gave him a pocket watch. "It really should have been for your birthday," he said. "But I couldn't find a family one to pass down, so I had to order a new one." He opened it, showing several things that didn't appear to have anything to do with timekeeping. "This one's like Dumbledore's," he said. "But it's yours." He turned it over, and the back was indeed inscribed "For T.R. Lupin, with love from Uncle Harry."  
  
The whole Potter and Weasley clan descended before noon, and there was no time for any kind of sentimental response. George and Angelina Weasley, along with Lee and Verity Jordan, had given Teddy gag gifts for his birthday last April--a cane, three pairs of reading glasses, and a potion to cover white hair--and now added a mirror that showed Teddy with a long white beard and wrinkles. Teddy promptly morphed to match it, causing the smallest children to think that Father Christmas had come by. He played along with this, handing out presents and asking them if they'd been good. Bill's family arrived a few minutes later, and Victoire and Marie immediately declared themselves honorary elves, much to Kreacher's annoyance.  
  
Christmas dinner was a boisterous occasion (as usual) in the magically Expanded kitchen, and all the house portraits (except for Mad Auntie, who was permanently attached to her spot on the wall) were brought down to join in the conversation. Teddy wished he'd thought to bring his, as Mum couldn't come to the Grimmauld Place portrait, but Dad assured him that she was having a marvelous time at Hogwarts, having a Christmas adventure with Sir Cadogan and the Fat Lady. Teddy waited for Phineas Nigellus to start grousing about being unable to eat at a family dinner, then unveiled a painting of a banquet that he'd found in Diagon Alley. The portraits, in their mismatched clothing from any number of eras, immediately crowded into it.  
  
After supper, the Weasley brothers evicted everyone else and started the clean-up, as was their custom. Teddy walked upstairs with Victoire, who was wearing a kind of shimmery blue robe that made her eyes glow. She'd had a glass of wine with her meal, and her face was flushed. Teddy looked around as unobtrusively as he could for some mistletoe, but the only sprig he saw was currently following Molly Weasley around, and it would probably be a bit obvious to Summon it.  
  
Victoire sat down on the stairs; Teddy sat beside her, and Summoned her present from upstairs. He handed it to her.  
  
"And I thought you'd forgotten."  
  
"Well, almost," he said. "There are so many Weasleys, how am I meant to remember you?"  
  
She stuck out her tongue, then carefully opened the present, saving the paper. Her face fell. "A set of _kitchen knives_?" she asked, looking at the box.  
  
"Well, I know how handy you are with them."  
  
"Teddy!"  
  
"Open it."  
  
She opened the box, and her face changed as she drew out the blue silk scarf inside. "It's beautiful," she said.  
  
"So are you," he said.  
  
She leaned forward, and he put his hand on her face.  
  
There was a bright flash of light, and a fox Patronus fell onto the stairs in front of them. It opened its mouth, and Ruthless's voice came out, "Teddy, would you mind coming up here a bit earlier than we'd talked about? If I don't have someone running interference with my brothers, I think I'll commit fratricide!"

 

"You were going to go to Ruth's this afternoon?" Victoire asked, pulling away.  
  
"Er..."  
  
"You were planning to"--she fumed--"and then go off for the afternoon with Ruth?"  
  
"I wasn't planning to do _anything_ ," Teddy said, mostly honestly. The whim to kiss Victoire had descended on him during supper and had certainly not become a _plan_. "I mean, Ruthless invited me weeks ago. I told you that."  
  
She started to say something, changed her mind, started to say something else, then threw the blue scarf at him and stalked upstairs.  
  
"Victoire!"  
  
"Go to Scotland, Teddy!" she shouted from the landing. "You'll be safer there!"  
  
"I--"  
  
A door slammed, ending the conversation. Teddy debated going up after her, to try and explain that... well, that...  
  
He ground his teeth. He hadn't the faintest idea what he meant to explain, though clearly, he owed someone somewhere an explanation of something.  
  
Teddy turned to find Aunt Ginny looking at him with an archly raised eyebrow. "Did Victoire say something?" she asked.  
  
"I, er..." Teddy looked up at the closed door, then back down. "Ruthless asked if I could go to Scotland a bit earlier than we'd planned. Maybe I'd best."  
  
"I think that's a good idea. Come back later--we'll have drinks in the parlor until all hours."  
  
Teddy pointed in the direction Victoire had disappeared in. "That was just, erm..."  
  
"Mm-hmm."  
  
"Right, then." Teddy Summoned his cloak and stood up to leave. "Tell everyone I'll be back."  
  
"Right. Don't forget your scarf." Aunt Ginny pointed to the stairs.  
  
Teddy picked up the silk scarf and shoved it in his cloak pocket without explanation. He went out into the square, nipped into a handy alley, and Disapparated.  
  
He landed a bit further from Ruthless's home in the Argyll highlands than he'd meant to--in all of their years as friends, he'd only been here a handful of times, and then only for short visits--but not far enough to bother with a second round of Apparition. He looked up the rocky hillside at the old roof among the scrubby pine trees, drew his cloak tighter, and started up the dirt road. Above him, wild auroras danced across the early darkness.  
  
It occurred to him momentarily that he could just disappear into the hills, not answer Victoire's accusations or Ruthless's summons. He could become a hermit, living in a cave somewhere, dispensing wise advise to those who'd discovered the secret of his continued existence. He could set up his crystal ball, tell fortunes, maybe discern who was born rightwise king of England in his spare time, should William ever have an urge to become a greengrocer, little Georgie run away to Australia, and all of the others decide that a magical choice was better than the legitimate line of succession. Really, as long as no one asked him how to avoid nearly kissing a girl who might as well be his cousin whilst being interrupted by an ex-girlfriend who needed a defender--and really, what were the odds?--it would be a perfectly good life.  
  
He sighed, and set on the path up the hill.  
  
Ruthless's family home was an unassuming farmhouse. No one lived anywhere nearby, and, like the Weasleys, the Scrimgeours didn't make much effort at hiding the magical nature of the place. As Teddy approached the door, he passed a few discarded cauldrons, a set of broomsticks leaning against a woodpile, and a hinkypunk that looked a little lost this far from a swamp. It turned and flashed its weak light at him.  
  
"Don't worry," he told it. "I'm going in anyway. No need for lures. If I don't come back, come in after me."  
  
The hinkypunk stood still for a moment, head cocked, then hopped off into the trees.  
  
Teddy knocked on the door.  
  
There was a great deal of thudding on the other side, and he finally saw the top of a head in the high window. The door opened, and Kirk Scrimgeour gestured him in. "Lupin! I'm glad to see _you_ , mate."  
  
"You see me at school all the time, and mostly ignore me."  
  
Ruthless slipped in around Kirk and said, "Teddy's on my side."  
  
"Everyone's on your side except that idiot you're dating. And you."  
  
Ruthless raised her wand at him, and he left.  
  
She let out a breath through clenched teeth. "Happy Christmas, Teddy. I'm really glad to see you." She threw her arms around him, and he hugged her back, and the idea of running away and becoming a hermit fell back into the darkness. She patted his arm as she drew away. "I'm sorry if I interrupted anything."  
  
"Maybe nothing that oughtn't have been interrupted."  
  
"Oh, really?" She glanced at his pocket and noticed the scarf. "Sorry. Er... that scarf looks like it might have been a good color for Weasley."  
  
He nodded.  
  
" _Really_ sorry."  
  
"It's all right. What's going on?"  
  
She rolled her eyes in the direction Kirk had gone. "My brothers don't approve. Neither does my father. They kept sniping at Sam until he left for work, and after he was gone, I sort of... lost my temper. Can you rescue Christmas?"  
  
"I can try." Teddy sighed, then sniffed the air. There was a familiar sort of scent, but he couldn't quite place it. "What's that?" he asked.  
  
"The twins 'accidentally' broke the vase on some flowers Sam gave me. I incinerated them. The flowers, not the twins. Though I was tempted."  
  
"Smells nice."  
  
She laughed wearily and stepped into the light of a torch, where Teddy could see deep, dark circles under her eyes. " _Are_ you on my side, Teddy?"  
  
"Always. Why does Kirk think _you're_ not on your side?"  
  
"A couple of months ago, Sam was out at the Cauldron, and he had little too much to drink, and he talked a little too much about things that weren't meant to be talked about in public. He's sorry. They're not accepting his apology. I am."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"It's me, Teddy. God, why doesn't anyone know it's me anymore? If I didn't accept his apology, I'd have hexed him halfway around the world."  
  
"Er... why didn't you? Are you... well, you said you might fall in love with him..."  
  
She shook her head. "I treat him pretty badly, when you think about it. I'm not... I don't feel... so I guess I owe him an apology acceptance. He puts up with things from me, too. Come on, can we have Christmas, and not a referendum on the same thing my brothers have been bothering me about?"  
  
Teddy didn't like what he was hearing, and he liked even less the dark circles under her eyes.  
  
 _Which are probably caused by you and everyone else judging her. Stop it._  
  
"Teddy?"  
  
An image rose in Teddy's mind, of Sam Cresswell as the troll in James's story, towering over the beautiful princess, slavering and threatening.  
  
He pushed it away. He loved her; he was jealous of her new boyfriend. It wasn't a very attractive emotion. She needed him to let it be. He smiled. "Well, as long as I'm here, and it does happen to _be_ Christmas..."  
  
She gave him a more real smile. "Good. They'll be on better behavior with you here." With this, she led him into the living room, where her four brothers, her parents, and her grandfather were toasting marshmallows in the fireplace. Kirk gave Ruthless a glare, but didn't pursue their argument.   
  
Her grandfather, Carponius, smiled in his vacant way (he had been Rufus Scrimgeour's twin, and had not been right since the Minister had been tortured to death during the war). "Have you come for the battle?" he asked Teddy conversationally. "There's a giant in the hills."  
  
"No, sir," Teddy said. "Perhaps another day."  
  
"Are you sure, lad? It'll be a fine battle."  
  
"I think we should give the giants Christmas Day off, don't you?" Ruthless asked, curling up beside him companionably.  
  
Carponius considered this, then said, "Yes, well said. It would be more sporting."  
  
Teddy got Keith talking about the Quidditch team's chances (much improved since Celia Dean had been taken on as Keeper this year), and gradually, the room got more cheerful, until everyone was laughing. Ruthless's father played a fine violin, and he played them into the evening with traditional carols, which they all sang along with, quite off-key.  
  
Twice, the subject started to veer toward Sam Cresswell, and Teddy saw the shadow fall across Ruthless's face in anticipation of a fight, so he steered it away both times, turning it into a conversation about her apprenticeship. Her brothers appeared to idolize Ron Weasley, and were happy to have the conversation turned to his exploits. Carponius related tales of Rufus, which everyone seemed to like, then went off into his fantasy world, where dragons and giants and dark creatures stalked the highlands, and he was the brave Auror who would fight them off. "Glad to have Ruthie's help, though," he said. "Ruthie's my darling girl."  
  
At one point, when Ruthless left the room for a moment, Kirk leaned over and said, "I'll talk to you at school," but nothing else was brought up.  
  
At around eight o'clock, Ruthless walked Teddy down the mountain. "You deserve some sort of award for saintliness," she said. "I was on the edge of my last nerve."  
  
"I've got your back," Teddy said. "Do you want to come back to London with me? Aunt Ginny said they'd be having drinks in the parlor."  
  
"Sure. Do you mind if we stop by my flat first? I want to change. I still smell like burned mallowsweet."  
  
" _That's_ why I knew that smell! I've been working with that all year. Not burnt."  
  
She gave him an odd look, and the Disapparated together to Diagon Alley.

Teddy had never been to Ruthless's flat. She'd leased it just before he'd left for America over the summer with Donzo, and he hadn't been there to help her move in. She hadn't asked him during the rest of the summer, as they'd seen one another at the Ministry and at Frankie Apcarne's Muggles and Minions get-togethers. He wasn't sure what to expect, and there wasn't a great deal to see. She'd obviously taken a few pieces of furniture from home, added what she could get cheaply at thrift shops, and not done much else. A few photographs had been stuck to the wall in a haphazard way--Teddy could see himself in a few, as well as other school friends, Ruthless and her family, and Quidditch games. The only piece with a frame was an Enlarged copy of her acceptance as an Auror apprentice, and this held pride of place between two unadorned windows over a threadbare sofa. Low shelves held all of her school books and whatever other books she'd collected over the years. A few wooden crates had been placed around as tables.  
  
"I know," she said, noticing him looking. "I could Transfigure them. But it just seems to take too much energy."  
  
"I didn't say anything."  
  
"It's ugly. I know it's ugly. I have no sense for this." She opened a door and pointed at a small, dingy room with an unmade bed at the center. "Doesn't get any better behind closed doors, either. Give me a minute?"  
  
He nodded. She disappeared into her bedroom, and he wandered aimlessly around the living area. She had a very old radio. A few non-descript vases had made their way onto one of the crates, and two of them had a vaguely vegetative sludge at the bottom. Her waste baskets were full to overflowing with notes (and a few bunches of dead flowers), and a moth-eaten blanket was balled up at the end of the sofa. Teddy knew better than to do anything about it. If Victoire were here (he winced, thinking that it would be quite a while before Victoire came to visit Ruthless), she would have it put together in an instant, no matter what protests Ruthless made on the subject. Teddy personally thought it would do Ruthless good not to come home to this dismal box every day.  
  
From behind a mustard yellow chair (with tufts of stuffing coming out at several points), Ruthless's cat, Ogden, emerged with a sleepy meow.  
  
"Wotcher, Oggie," Teddy said. He sat on the sofa.  
  
Ogden gave him a disdainful look, then jumped up on the couch and started kneading on his arm.  
  
From Ruthless's room, a man's voice said, "Fine. Go back to the school room."  
  
"Ruthless?" Teddy called.  
  
The door burst open, and she came out, adjusting a clip in her hair. She was wearing blue jeans and a green jumper. "I'm fine," she hissed.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"Sam sent a Patronus asking me to come over."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"I sent one back saying that my best friend is in town and I wasn't going. So he sent back a louder one." She smiled sheepishly. "He's a little jealous of you, I'm afraid."  
  
Teddy frowned. "Ruthless, whoever you end up with best put up with me, because I'm not going anywhere."  
  
Her smile brightened. "I'll remember to share that with Weasley."  
  
"Well, er... maybe not just now."  
  
She laughed and linked her arm through his. "Come on, let's go."  
  
Jostling one another down the corridor, they made it outside, and Ruthless turned and Disapparated. Teddy looked up at her apartment, thinking he ought to get her some sort of present for it.  
  
"Looking for something?"  
  
He turned.  
  
Sam Cresswell was standing at the entrance to a shop across the street. His eyes were cold and his wand was raised.  
  
Teddy blinked. "No. Just thinking Ruthless needs some draperies."  
  
"If she does, I'll take care of it."  
  
"She has friends who aren't you," Teddy said, then Disapparated before Sam said anything else.  
  
Ruthless was waiting for him in the alley. "Did you get lost?" she asked.  
  
"Sam wanted a word with me."  
  
"Sam...?" She pounded her fist against the wall. "I swear, if he does one more stupid thing--"  
  
"Why would you even give him one more?"  
  
She stopped and blinked. "I don't know." She shook her head sharply and said, "I'll think about that tomorrow. Let's go have drinks with my boss."  
  
Her laughter was more forced as they made their way to Grimmauld Place, and her grip on his arm was more serious, but she seemed determined not to discuss the subject of Sam. Teddy assumed she was turning it over in her head, and thought it was about time to let her do it.  
  
Most of the Weasleys had gone home, including Bill's family. Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny and Ron and Hermione and Professor Longbottom and Hannah and Granny had all retired to the parlor. Teddy and Ruthless joined them, and they spent a perfectly pleasant evening talking about Christmases past, and what Teddy intended to do with his money. Sirius had vastly expanded his list of requests, which now included a wing of the Louvre and something called a "droid," which he'd seen in a Muggle film in the seventies, and now wanted to test as a work of art--could it or could it not be possessed by a painting? Hermione explained to him several times (in a voice breezy from a little too much mead) that the droid wasn't real, and would be no better to "possess" than the bust of Medusa above the parlor door. This led to a failed attempt to enter the bust, then a Transfiguration duel between Granny and Hermione that left the bust looking like a bespectacled Rapunzel studying a colony of snakes.  
  
Teddy told Ruthless to check her protection spells that night, and she didn't argue.  
  
Nothing happened on Saturday.  
  
On Sunday afternoon, Teddy bundled James up and went back to Diagon Alley to join Frankie's Muggles and Minions game at the Charmpress offices. James didn't play particularly well or often, but all of Teddy's friends liked him, and he did like being admired. Frankie had also promised to give them a galley of their book, and James was poring over it studiously when the door opened and Ruthless came in with a dramatic bow. She looked lighter, somehow, than she had on Friday.  
  
Frankie put a hand to his heart in mock surprise. "Scrimgeour! Back here with we plebian types?"  
  
"Roll me in, Apcarne," she said. "I just got rid of some deadweight, and I want to get back to _my_ life. Or Brass-Knuckles Bertha's, either one."  
  
"Thank you, God," Zach Templeton said ferociously, raising his folded hands to heaven.  
  
"Amen," Teddy said.  
  
"The lot of you can have all the I-told-you-sos that you like tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to play."  
  
"Fair enough," Frankie said. "But can I make up a troll that we can all kill?"  
  
"I have a troll," James offered. "He lives in a shack in the mountains and kidnaps girls."  
  
"No trolls in Muggle-world," Ruthless said.  "Really, Frankie."  
  
"Fine, a miserable burglar," Teddy offered.  
  
"Can we make him cross-eyed and snaggle-toothed?" she asked.  
  
"Our burglar is your burglar," Tinny said. "What should he steal?"  
  
"Everything," she said, rather morosely, then brightened. "Let's make him hard to kill, so it'll take a while."  
  
"You're on," Frankie said, and scribbled an abrupt change to his game plan.  
  
She sat down beside Teddy and smiled. This close, he could see the dark circles under her eyes, and the redness at the rims. "Thanks," she whispered.  
  
"I didn't do anything."  
  
"You behaved like a normal person and he still treated you like dirt. Kind of hard to rationalize." She looked around. "All right, it's Christmas hols, and I see Lupin and Gudgeon. Where's McCormack?"  
  
"He's trying to get Maurice to come," Teddy said. "Maurice has been moping. His dad signed the papers to take the shop today. He was going to be spending all day over there, and you know how he loves it. Rita Skeeter might even be there, to make his day complete."  
  
They waited ten minutes, but neither Donzo nor Maurice appeared, so Frankie started the game. He put James's character with Teddy's, so they moved about together, keeping James mostly out of trouble. Ruthless put a signal bell on the table beside her, as she was on call if anyone needed an Auror and there weren't enough. Tinny and Frankie led them through what was obviously the original idea--a chase after a diamond thief--and moved on to the real power behind the thief--an ugly, stupid, foolish burglar. They tracked him through the Tube and into Heathrow, and were just moving in on him amidst precariously piled towers of luggage when the bell suddenly rose into the air and started a loud, insistent ringing. Ruthless stood up. "Have to go."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"The office, for starters, to find out from there," she said, pulling on her cloak. The bell kept getting louder. "It's probably just some--"  
  
With a flash, Donzo's Patronus appeared. It formed in front of Teddy and its jaw dropped.  
  
"Teddy, get to Borgin and Burke's right now."  
  
Teddy looked at Ruthless, whose freckles were suddenly quite prominent on her pale skin. "Borgin and Burke's," she whispered. "The Needle's Eye."


	14. Thirteen-B Knockturn Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the attack on Borgin and Burke's, Andromeda takes Maurice and Wendell in, and Maurice makes an important decision about his immediate future. Meanwhile, Ruthless learns how badly she was treated by Sam.

"I have to go," Teddy said, and glanced at James. "Er, Tinny, could you--?"  
  
"I could go with you," James offered.  
  
Ruthless shook her head. "James, I need you to go home and tell your dad what happened. I'm going straight to Borgin and Burke's. If that's not where the trouble is, I'll go back to the office. Do you have that?"  
  
James nodded somberly. "Tell Dad you're going straight to Borgin and Burke's. You'll come to the office if that's not where the trouble is."  
  
"Good man," she said.  
  
"Thanks," Teddy said.  
  
"I'll get him back to Grimmauld Place," Frankie said. "They know me better than Tinny. Tinny, you--"  
  
But Teddy had gone out into the better December night before Frankie finished, and Disapparated to Thirteen-B, Knockturn Alley.  
  
He heard Maurice yelling even before he fully came through--"Let me go, Don! Let me go!"--and then he was in the middle of some sort of hell. A contained fire was still burning inside Borgin and Burke's, but the building was taking care of itself. In the front window, displayed like merchandise, were three bodies, pinned up against black velvet: old Mr. Borgin was in the center, bloody gold coins falling out of his mouth. On either side of him were Henry and Salvina Burke. Salvina was simply dead. Henry's eyes had been put out with quills that remained in them, dripping blood.  
  
"Teddy!" Donzo yelled from where he was holding Maurice back. "Teddy, get Wendell! He's upstairs!"  
  
Teddy looked up at the window on the upper floor, where the offices were. He couldn't see Wendell, and hoped that Donzo was right about where he was. He broke out the window with a Blasting Curse, transformed into a hawk, and flew up.  
  
The rooms upstairs were undamaged, but smoke was coming up the staircase. A green-flecked beetle bumbled along in a daze.  
  
Teddy transformed back. "Wendell! Wendell Burke!"  
  
No answer.  
  
"Please be here. It's Teddy Lupin! I'm going to get you out!"  
  
For a moment, there was no answer, then a door opened under a counter piled with merchandise in various states of repair. Wendell spilled out of it.  
  
"Come on," Teddy said. "We'll get you out... the back way. There's something very bad. You shouldn't see it." He sent a quick Patronus to Donzo to tell him to get Maurice around to the back. "Very good, hiding."  
  
"Rita told me to." Wendell pointed over Teddy's shoulder.  
  
Rita Skeeter was standing shakily where the stairs met the floor. Teddy had been staring at the spot a moment before. "I'll keep your secret if you keep mine," she said.  
  
"Deal. Do you know where the back stairs are?"  
  
"He Sealed them."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"The Auror!"  
  
Teddy stopped. "What?" Downstairs, something crashed. "They'll get your statement later. We have to get out of here before the fire protections fail."  
  
"Can you get him through the window?" Rita asked. "If he's Charmed feather-light?"  
  
Teddy nodded, and did the spell. He transformed again. Wendell was bigger than anything he'd tried to carry in his talons, but the spell held, and it was no more difficult than carrying the Quaffles he sometimes practiced with. Rita Blasted out a window in back, and Teddy flew down, setting Wendell down on the cobblestones. Donzo had dragged Maurice back, and now let him go to grab hold of his brother and start muttering mad comforts.  
  
A beetle scurried down the wall and into a narrow side alley behind the shop. A few seconds later, Rita walked back.  
  
"Are the Aurors here?" Teddy asked. "I mean, other than Ruthless?"  
  
"That Scrimgeour girl's probably in on it!" Rita said savagely.   
  
"Ruthless isn't in on anything!"  
  
"They gave each other alibis, didn't they? And I was so bloody discreet, never printing it, well not much of it--"  
  
"Are you talking about Sam? Sam Cresswell? He did this?"  
  
"Yes! It was Sam Cresswell!"  
  
"That's impossible!" Ruthless came around the corner. "He can't have... the other times..."  
  
"Yes, I know what you said the other times, girl. Did you plan it out? Did you--"  
  
"Ruth didn't do anything." They turned. Maurice had looked up over Wendell's head. His voice was flat and cold. "I don't know _how_ she didn't do anything, but I know she didn't. Ruth wouldn't."  
  
Ruthless put her hand to her throat. She was breathing hard, and her eyes were open so wide that Teddy could see the white around the irises. He saw her sway, then she bent over and vomited.  
  
Uncle Harry and Ron arrived a moment later, not bothering with any pretense about having recused themselves. Uncle Harry took charge of the crime scene, and Ron got everyone gathered together, then created a Portkey from the lid of a rubbish bin and took them all back to Auror headquarters together. He Conjured blankets to put around Maurice and Wendell, and tried to give one to Ruthless, but she refused it, turning away and putting her face toward the wall. Teddy started over, but she held out her hand to stop him and pointed to Maurice and Wendell.  
  
Teddy turned away from her, and went to them.  
  
The next half hour was and would remain a barely registered horror. He remembered it in disconnected, but perfectly clear flashes--Wendell grabbing hold of him and begging to be told how to keep going without his parents, Maurice pacing wildly around and swearing to kill Sam without magic, Rita suddenly screaming that she might have been killed, that the maniac had wanted her dead as well. Anthony Goldstein appeared quickly, Sealed up Sam Cresswell's cube, and was sent out on the hunt for him.  
  
Ron and Uncle Harry took each of them in for statements. They let Wendell and Maurice go in together, so they wouldn't have to be separated, but the others went in one at a time. Teddy was left for last.  
  
When he went in, Uncle Harry was going over a pile of the other statements, now signed and committed to parchment.  
  
"Did you get the fire out?" Teddy asked, nonsensically.  
  
Ron nodded. "It's Borgin and Burke's. The merchandise defends itself. A beam started to crack, and the whole building cut off air. The Aurors taking the bodies down had to get out quickly."  
  
Teddy sat down. "I, er... Do you want me to start?"  
  
"I doubt it'll be anything new," Uncle Harry said, "but yes. I need your statement."  
  
Teddy told them everything that had happened from the time Donzo had sent the Patronus until Ron had got them back here. When he was given the statement to sign, it merely said he'd "flown" through the window, and Rita had "climbed" down. There was no mention of animal forms. It wasn't untrue. He signed it, then said, "I'll call McGonagall and get registered."  
  
Uncle Harry nodded vaguely, then sighed. "Teddy, Ruth's adamant that she remembers the other nights. Before I take it to the Mind Division, do you have any theories?"  
  
An image flashed in Teddy's mind, the winding staircase in the Gryffindor dormitories. Rain was coming in. It was dark... but he remembered it being light. "Mallowsweet," he said. "I was working with it in Potions--"  
  
"We got a notice about that. A new property in its dried state." Uncle Harry leaned forward. "You think...?"  
  
"I don't know, but I know he gave her Mallowsweet on Christmas. It might not have been the first time." Fury rose up suddenly inside him, and he stood up, sweeping his hand across the statements. "I should've seen it! I should've known something was wrong! Ruthless isn't like that! And that letter... the bit about Scrimgeour whoring himself... He did  it just to make a joke about that!  God! Why didn't I see it? He did it to hurt her, and I didn't do anything! And now Maurice and Wendell are paying for it."  
  
"Teddy, nobody did anything. I censured him for speaking disrespectfully about a fellow Auror, and Ron called him a few names, and Ruth's brothers fumed, and James turned him into a troll in a story, and Hermione and Hannah had a few things to say about him being generally disrespectful toward women, but _none of us did anything._ "  
  
"You didn't suspect..."  
  
"Oh, we suspected," Uncle Harry said. "He had all the motive in the world and the skills to do it, but he also had an alibi, so he had no opportunity. We passed right by him."  
  
Teddy swallowed hard, and sat back down. "Did Rita say what happened in there?"  
  
"Yeah." Ron smiled bitterly. "Sam's a good student. He used a curse Harry invented when we were tracking down Death Eaters after the war--it immobilizes before they can defend, much more effectively than a Petrificus hex. Strictly illegal to do it outside the bounds of the law, and not taught to non-Aurors, but he was one of us. We decided we'd rather use that than Unforgivables. We could take them to Azkaban and stay clean of the Dark Arts ourselves. Only it seems Sam used it to immobilize his victims and then torture them. Rita got away by transforming, and got upstairs fast enough to tell Wendell to hide in an Obscured cupboard, but, being Rita, she didn't go down and fight him. He got away."  
  
Uncle Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes vigorously. "Teddy, we're going to have to search Ruth's flat for Mallowsweet. She can stay with Ron and Hermione at the Romp. Would you mind going with whoever I send to get the things you think she'll need or want? They'll have to check whatever you take out, of course."  
  
"What about Maurice and Wendell?"  
  
"Actually, I was going to call Andromeda. She has a way with young men who need to heal."  
  
With that, the interview was over. All three of them left the office, and rejoined the dazed looking group outside. Ruth didn't even put up an argument about going to stay with Ron and Hermione. Maurice started to suggest that he had a flat, but Wendell covered his eyes and shook his head--their flat was in Knockturn Alley, and overlooked the shop. Maurice put an arm around him and promised that they wouldn't need to go back. Granny came, and took them home.  
  
Teddy was waiting for Williams, who was going to search Ruthless's flat when he got the right papers from the Wizengamot, when Anthony Goldstein appeared again, his face set in a cold fury.  
  
"You didn't get him?" Williams asked.  
  
"He cleaned out his Gringotts account this afternoon," Anthony said. "His mother and brother were moved out, and he's nowhere to be seen. He's in the wind, and he knows every trick we'll use to track him."

There was nothing more to say. Goldstein went to Sam's work cube and started to inventory its contents (to Teddy's eye, it also looked suspiciously barren), and Teddy followed Williams to Ruthless's flat.  
  
They stopped outside the door, and Williams said, "Look, I'm looking for evidence of either side. I don't think Scrimgeour purposely give a murderer an alibi, but I have to see what there is to see."  
  
"There's nothing to see," Teddy said, and opened the door.  
  
They both stopped.  
  
The living room had been turned upside down, the handful of vases smashed. Even from here, Teddy could see that they'd been magically scoured first. "He beat us here," he hissed. "To get rid of evidence that he was using Mallowsweet on her."  
  
Williams ground his teeth. "Probably. Let's keep looking. He's a bloody lunatic. He has to have missed something. They always do."  
  
Teddy wasn't quite as sure about this, as Sam was an Auror and would think of all the same things Williams would, but he went on looking anyway. Williams took the pathetic little kitchen and living room. Teddy went into the bedroom to pack a bag and see what he could find.  
  
Ruthless's wardrobe didn't open all the way, since the area between it and her bed was too narrow. He reached in and grabbed several robes, then took a handful of underwear from the top drawer of her bureau. He supposed he should feel uncomfortable about it, but the day was weighing too heavily on his mind to worry about something like that. He left the bag open for Williams to inspect, and Summoned her toothbrush from the crawlspace that she called a bathroom, off to one side. He didn't know if she'd need any of her other things, and thought it best to let her make that call later.  
  
He looked around her bedroom. The top of the bureau was empty, though several smashed picture frames lay on the floor beside it. He resisted the temptation to repair them, as Williams would need to catalog the damage. The headboard had been built up to the ceiling with cupboards and cubbies for storage, and in one of these, he saw a pile of six shiny Galleons. Looking more closely, he saw a note behind them. It said, "We'll do it again soon, love. Hope this will cover it. Sam."  
  
"Williams!" Teddy called.  
  
The older Auror came in. "What?"  
  
Teddy pointed to the tableau.  
  
Williams recorded it on a bit of parchment, then Vanished it. "I won't show her the file," he said. "But I'm satisfied she wasn't covering for him. What are we missing?"  
  
Teddy looked around the bedroom. The covers had been kicked to the foot of the bed, and looked like they'd been there a while. They were covered with ginger cat hair--  
  
"Ogden!" Teddy realized. "Where's her cat? Oggie? Moggie-Oggie, come here?"  
  
"Cresswell may have..."  
  
Teddy shook his head. "No. He expected she'd see that note. If he'd killed her cat, he'd left him somewhere visible."  
  
"Then he'll find his way back."  
  
"No, that's not it." Teddy stared at the cat hair. "The best way to dose her--at least to convince her of something that happened at night--would be petal dust on the bedding. If Oggie slept here, and he got away, I want to find him before he cleans himself up."  
  
Williams blinked, then nodded. They started searching under the bed, under the sofa, in the table-crates Sam had overturned in the living room. Teddy was beginning to think Ogden had gone outside, which would have destroyed everything, since a light rain was falling, but just when he was about to give up, he heard something in the bedroom. He ran back in.  
  
A door at the top of the row of cupboards in Ruthless's headboard was being lightly batted.  
  
He ran in and opened it.  
  
Ogden hissed and backed into a corner.  
  
"Come on," Teddy said. "Come on, Moggie-Oggie, it's me, not him. Come on out." He Summoned a cat treat from the kitchen and held it out.  
  
Ogden sniffed and came forward.  
  
Teddy grabbed him by the scruff and pulled him out, catching him before it would hurt him, ignoring the infuriated hiss. The door swung shut when it was jarred.  
  
"Hold onto him," Williams said, and did a non-verbal spell. A faint, muddy light began to show through Oggie's coat. Williams's nostrils flared. "He's covered with it," he said. "I'll document it."  
  
While he did so, Teddy put Ogden into an enchanted sleep and Summoned his basket. Williams checked everything in his bags, said shortly that he had more to find, and sent Teddy off.  
  
Teddy Apparated to the front garden of the Romp and went to the door to ring the bell. Hermione opened the door before he'd even finished reaching.  
  
"I saw you come in," she said, gesturing him inside. "I was going to put her upstairs in the attic room so she could have some privacy, but quite frankly, I don't want her alone just now, so she's still in the parlor."  
  
Teddy nodded. "Do you want me to take her up to the room?"  
  
"I'll get her settled later. You just... get her all right."  
  
Teddy followed her to the parlor. Ruthless was sitting listlessly by the fire. Ron was on the sofa, filling out reports and keeping a wary eye on her. When he saw Teddy, he got up and left.  
  
"I have some of your things," Teddy said.  
  
Ruthless didn't look up. "How's Maurice?"  
  
"He's at my place," Teddy said. "With Granny. He's not good, but he'll be all right. Granny and I will look after him. You, too."  
  
"I can't even look at him."  
  
Teddy sat down beside her, and put Ogden's basket at her feet. She opened it and began stroking the cat absently. Teddy put her suitcase down. "You will, though. He's going to need all of his friends."  
  
She looked over at him. "Teddy... I swear... I _remember_..."  
  
"It's Mallowsweet. Ogden confirmed it. It's all over him. It makes false memories."  
  
"He was always giving me Mallowsweet. Growing plants was the only thing his brother could do. They had a little greenhouse."  
  
"I found an effect--"  
  
"I even read the warning about that!"   
  
"It only happens in the dried form. No one uses the powdered petals, apparently. Except Cresswell."  
  
Her face twisted painfully, but she didn't cry. "I _remember,_ Teddy. Especially the night before Goyle died."  
  
"What, exactly?"  
  
"Teddy..."  
  
"No, I'm telling you--there'll be something wrong with it. You'll see."  
  
"I don't know. I remember, because... he said we'd be hungry. He said he'd wake me up in the middle of the night and we'd have breakfast in the dark and"--she looked down--"and he'd eat from my stomach."  
  
"And he did."  
  
"Well, he said he would, but we didn't quite get that… controlled. We both woke up, though, and we went into the kitchen, and we made quite a huge breakfast, then went back to bed and... God, Teddy, you don't need to know everything do you?"  
  
"No. No, of course not, but... just, what happened after?"  
  
"We went back to sleep, and then got up and had a spot of tea and went to work."  
  
Teddy thought about Ruthless's kitchen. A big breakfast would have left it impossible to navigate the next morning. "Was the mess still there in the morning?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The dishes, from cooking."  
  
"Er... no."  
  
"Did you stop and do them before you went back to bed?"  
  
"We weren't entirely in a housecleaning frame of mind, Teddy, what...?" Her voice trailed off. "I never got up. And Sam and I went to bed the first time at  one. I thought we had breakfast at four, but I was famished at five when we got up to go to the station." She took a few harsh breaths. "The time doesn't work. Sam was complaining all morning that he'd pulled something cooking or... well, _or_... but the time doesn't work, and the dishes were never washed. Because they were never out." She blinked. "And he talked about how _he'd_ made breakfast, but I remembered that we made it together."  
  
"He suggested it to you," Teddy said. "And you were asleep, so you didn't see the seams when you didn't have a reason to look for them, but they were there."  
  
For a moment, a triumphant flare of light crossed her face, then it twisted into horror. "He did all of this to me _on purpose?_ Everything?" She buried her hands in her hair. "God, I'm such an idiot!"  
  
"No."  
  
"Yes! Yes, I am! I knew he hated all the victims. I'd even heard him talk about how Harry didn't do enough. And he hated my great-uncle as much as he hated Fudge, but I thought, 'At least he doesn't keep up the grudge against me,' and-- _Agh!_ " She started scrubbing her dry arms with her nails.  
  
Teddy grabbed her hands before she could break the skin. "So what he did to you was like what he did to Uncle Harry. He hurt you, too. It's not your fault. He set out to do it deliberately. You didn't miss signs, because he was hiding them from you, just so that you'd feel like this when you found out. So don't give it to him, Ruthless. Don't feel the way he wanted you to."  
  
"I can't not feel it," she said softly.  
  
"Ruthless..."  
  
She clenched her jaw. "I can't not feel it, but I can..." She stood up and pounded her fist into her hand. "I can help Ron and Harry find him. And when I find him, I'll... I'll have his balls for earbobs. I'll--" She shuddered. "No. I don't want to turn _into_ him. But I don't think he'll calmly come stand trial, either."  
  
Teddy let her go on talking, building up a steam of anger that was blowing away the deep depression. He guessed the latter would come back later, if they let it, but he didn't plan to give her time. For now, he Conjured small things for her to destroy, and let her keep fuming.  
  
It was nearly midnight when Hermione came downstairs and asked if Ruthless would like to go to her room.  
  
"I should see Maurice," she said.  
  
"You need sleep," Hermione told her.  
  
Ruthless looked at her crossly, but suddenly swayed on her feet. "I... I suppose..."  
  
"Go on," Teddy said. "I'll tell Maurice you're concerned."  
  
Ruthless nodded. She let Hermione lead her upstairs.  
  
Teddy left a few minutes later, and went home. All of the lights were on. He could see Wendell in the living room window, staring listlessly out into the night. Granny was in the kitchen, brewing something at the stove.  
  
"Lupin?"  
  
Teddy stopped. Maurice was standing on the path, his face pale, his lips pressed thinly together. Teddy approached him. "Maurice, are--"  
  
"Did they catch the bastard?"  
  
"Not yet."  
  
Maurice stood silently, blinking into the pale moonlight. Finally, he said, "I need to go back to the shop in the morning. I need you to come with me."

He wouldn't say what he was planning to do at the store, and Teddy couldn't even imagine wanting to go back to that particular crime scene. The Aurors would have taken the bodies down by now, but he imagined that, in Maurice's head, the bodies would be there for a very long time. Maurice just continued to insist that they go in the morning, and Teddy agreed largely because Maurice was in a troublingly calm mood, given what had happened. They walked back to the house together, not talking.  
  
Inside, Wendell wasn't calm. Wendell was on the couch weeping, while Granny patted his back and said soothing things. She looked up when Maurice and Teddy came into the parlor. "Teddy?"  
  
Teddy shook his head, guessing that she wanted to know about Sam's whereabouts. She nodded.  
  
Maurice took a few slow steps into the room, and in this light, Teddy could see how drawn and tired he looked, the latent wildness behind his eyes. He sat down in Granddad's reclining chair and said, "Now what do we do?"  
  
"You get some sleep," Granny said. "Sleep is the best thing right now. You can have Teddy's room, and Wendell can have the nursery, unless you want to share? Would you rather not be separated?"  
  
"I want Maurice," Wendell said.  
  
"Then we'll share," Maurice said.  
  
"All right," Granny told him. "I'll Conjure beds for tonight, and borrow a pair of them from Harry tomorrow. I know there are a few in the attic at Grimmauld Place. Will the nursery be all right? It's a child's room, but I always found it comforting. Teddy's dad put a lot of kind things on the walls."  
  
It was apparently all right, as neither of the Burkes objected.  
  
"Teddy and I are going to the shop tomorrow," Maurice said calmly, to Teddy's surprise.  
  
"Are you going to burn it down, like you always said?" Wendell asked.  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?" Granny asked. "I mean, once the Aurors are done with it."  
  
Maurice set his jaw. "That psychopath wants the shop erased. I will therefore re-open it as soon as the Aurors have finished investigating. I _will not give him what he wants._ "  
  
"But you hate the shop," Wendell said.  
  
"You don't. And the last thing Dad did was make sure you'd have it someday. So you will."  
  
Wendell blinked slowly, and Teddy expected him to erupt in a rage at the thought that he'd still want the place where his parents had died, but instead, he said, "Maurice, I promise, I'll take over as soon as I come of age."  
  
"You'll take over when you finish school," Maurice corrected him.  
  
"What about you?" Teddy asked.  
  
"I'm only taking three N.E.W.T.s," Maurice said. "I can live without them. I'll stay in London."  
  
"You'll stay _here,_ " Granny said.  
  
Maurice didn't argue.  
  
Teddy didn't know what to say, how to make anything better. The four of them sat in silence for twenty minutes, then Wendell started to drift off, and Maurice took him upstairs to the nursery. Granny followed to Conjure their beds, and Teddy stood at the back window, looking out at the pond. A duck--which had no sense of either season or time, since Granny fed him and kept the pond warm--was having a late night swim in the moonlight, untroubled by the human world.  
  
"They're settled," Granny said, coming back into the room. She came up and stood beside him, and Teddy could see their pale reflections in the glass. "I gave them a Dreamless Sleep potion. They need rest."  
  
Teddy nodded. "Granny?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"How did you do it? I was only a baby when everyone... How did you lose them all and...?"  
  
"You know better than anyone that I didn't do an exemplary job of adjusting."  
  
"But you _did_."  
  
"I had my job. I had Harry with me. And I had you. I held on for dear life. I knew you needed me. I suspected Harry did. So I didn't have any choice but to keep going."  
  
"How long did it take for you to feel normal again?"  
  
Granny smiled faintly. "I'll let you know."  
  
"But..."  
  
"There's a new normal," she said. "But the old normal... it's gone. My normal was being Ted's wife, and Dora's mother, and Remus's friend and frequently exasperated mother-in-law. I'd only been a grandmother for two weeks; it wasn't part of who I was yet. I didn't know who I was."  
  
"But you've always had such a strong personality."  
  
"You think that's all there is to it?" She shook her head. "Teddy, all of those connections, all of those definitions--they're all bits and pieces of you. And when they're cut off, it's terrifying. Maurice hates the shop, but it's _his_. It's something he understands. It's his family name, his place, somewhere to put down an anchor, and somewhere to anchor his brother."  
  
"But what happened there..."  
  
"Your grandfather and I were tortured in the room we're standing in right now, Teddy. I incinerated anything that had blood on it, but it's the same place. And I seem to recall that you wanted the Shrieking Shack desperately until you blew it up."  
  
Teddy frowned out at the darkness. "I feel like I should have something smart and important to say to him. But I don't."  
  
"That's because there isn't anything to be said. He needs sleep tonight, and then he needs time. It's the only thing for it. They'll need to find their new normal."  
  
Teddy nodded, and started for his room.  
  
"Teddy?  
  
He turned. "What?"  
  
"Just... make sure he doesn't do anything foolish tomorrow."  
  
"Trust me, I'm going to be keeping that firmly in mind. I know something about foolish things."  
  
He went upstairs and changed. He was tired to his bones, but sleep was slow in coming. He lay awake for over an hour, staring at the ceiling, absently scratching Checkmate behind the ears. He could feel Death hovering in the house--a hated but familiar presence to him--and he wasn't surprised, when he finally drifted off to sleep, to find himself on the island he'd long ago imagined for his parents. It was night, and a cold, drenching rain was falling. He was sitting on the steps of the Shrieking Shack. The door opened behind him, and Dad came out.  
  
"Did Maurice's parents make it through all right?" Teddy asked.  
  
Dad smiled and sat down beside him. The rain was pouring over both of them. "It's not a travelers' inn, Teddy, and there's no sign-in book."  
  
"You don't know."  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"What can I do?" Teddy turned and looked at him. "Dad, what _is_ there? What can I do?"  
  
Dad was quiet for a long time, then said, "There's something I gave you that could help."  
  
"The ring?"  
  
"I can't see where that would help Maurice," Dad said.  
  
"The Map wouldn't, either. The gold?"  
  
Dad smiled. "Teddy, not everything I gave you is a _thing_."  
  
Teddy lost the thread of the dream, and woke up in the thin light of the early morning. He dressed and went downstairs. In the parlor, over the sofa, was the picture of Dad that Dean Thomas had done years before the portrait. In it, Dad was in his classroom at Hogwarts. Teddy was still staring at it when Maurice came down.  
  
"Can you still come to the shop?" Maurice asked without preliminaries.  
  
"Yes." Teddy turned away from the picture. "And I'm going to arrange with Sprout to come and tutor you through your N.E.W.T.s this spring."  
  
"I don't care."  
  
"You will."  
  
Maurice considered it. "So I'll be running the damned shop and you'll be Professor Lupin, after all."  
  
"When I teach, I feel like he's teaching over my shoulder."  
  
Maurice blinked several times rapidly, then said, in a choked voice, "I'll remember that when I'm trying to keep the books in order. Thanks."  
  
They left the house together, walking in the morning mists toward the Apparition point. Maurice said he couldn't eat; Teddy Summoned some breakfast anyway and made him try.  
  
They Disapparated together and got to Knockturn Alley just as an old witch who sold entrails for fortune-telling was setting up her booth. She took a look at Maurice and covered her wares.  
  
"Sorry, so sorry," she muttered.  
  
"Thanks, Egeria," Maurice said, not looking up as they passed. "Go on. Set up."  
  
As they went on, Teddy heard the witch go back to the business of opening.  
  
When they got to Thirteen-B, Knockturn Alley, the bodies had been taken down, but the Aurors had marked the area off completely. Anthony Goldstein was keeping a sleepy watch. "Teddy?" he asked, looking up, then stood up straight. "Mr. Burke. You shouldn't--"  
  
"I'm going upstairs," Maurice said.  
  
"We haven't finished--"  
  
"You can come with us if you're worried that I'm going to muck up investigating my parents' death."  
  
"Er..."  
  
Maurice sighed. "No, I suppose you have to, or I will cock it up at trial. He'll say I planted something."  
  
Goldstein, somewhat embarrassed, took something silver from his waistband. "True-image mirror," he said. "I have to make sure that you're both who you say you are."  
  
He held the mirror up, first to Maurice (who appeared smaller and more sunken than usual, but was clearly himself) and then to Teddy (who appeared with his curls and was otherwise no different). Then he unlocked to door to Borgin and Burke's, and let them inside.  
  
Maurice's eyes darted quickly up to the place where his parents' bodies had been, then looked determinedly away and headed for the stairs that led to the workroom where Teddy had found Wendell yesterday. Teddy and Goldstein followed in his wake. He went straight for the repair table and began searching through piles of spell books.  
  
"What are we looking for?" Teddy asked tentatively, going to a spot beside him.  
  
"Recipes," Maurice said dryly.  
  
"Maurice?"  
  
From the bottom of the pile, Maurice drew out a tattered magazine, which was the last thing Teddy had expected. It was called _Wandwork_. The text advertising photo spreads inside suggested that it wasn't a Charms primer.  
  
"What the--?"  
  
"Borgin's," Maurice said. "He reckoned most people wouldn't want to be accused of stealing this sort of thing."  
  
"And we're here for that?"  
  
Maurice flipped the pages absently--Teddy didn't look--then finally stopped. Maurice jabbed his wand at it, then the magazine darkened, became heavier. The pictures bled into words, and the cover turned to rusty leather.  
  
 _Bloodstained_ leather. Engraved on it were the words, _The Oldest Magic: A Guide To the Forgotten Arts_.  
  
Teddy looked up. "Maurice..."  
  
Maurice looked at Anthony Goldstein. "You'll have to arrest me after this, but find someone to look after the shop. I promised my brother. But let's find the bastard first."  
  
He slammed the book down on the table, open to a page labeled, "Discerecaedes: To Find the Blood of the Slaughtered."  
  
Teddy looked at the page, his horror growing as he saw the detailed pictures and scanned the text.  
  
He barely noticed it when Maurice Summoned a knife.


	15. The New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the murderer identified but uncaptured, the wizarding world begins to question the very premises of their hard-won peace.

"Teddy!"  
  
Teddy turned his head at the sound of Goldstein's voice and saw the knife fly into Maurice's hand. Maurice raised it at him, and pointed a wand at Goldstein with the other hand, freezing the Auror, whose concern had apparently got his guard down.  
  
Teddy stood his ground and opened his arms, exposing his chest to the blade.  
  
Maurice stopped. "Teddy, I'm sorry, I'm not going to kill you, but an orphan's blood... it won't work if it's mine... it can't be offered."  
  
"I know," Teddy said, standing still. "I saw the spell."  
  
"It has to be _taken_. It won't work if you give it to me."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Teddy! Couldn't you fight, just a little?"  
  
Teddy shook his head. "No. I'm a willing participant."  
  
"But it won't... Teddy, please... I can't..." The knife fell from Maurice's hand, and he crumpled to the floor, weeping. "It won't work that way..."  
  
Teddy went to him and put an arm over his shoulders. "I know, Maurice. I know. And I won't let it work. I won't let you do that to yourself."  
  
"My p-par... my _father!_ My _mum_!"  
  
"I know, Maurice."  
  
"They didn't do anything. Dad was a bookkeeper! Mum c-cleaned houses! Why?" He put his hands over his face. "God, Teddy, what am I supposed to do? He got away, this can find him!"  
  
Teddy looked at Goldstein, and prodded Maurice to undo the spell.  
  
Goldstein came over. "We'll find him, Mr. Burke," he said. "We'll put him away."  
  
"Just don't put me in the cell next to him," Maurice said, wiping his face viciously.  
  
"There'll be no cell for you," Goldstein said. "I didn't see a thing."  
  
"Nothing to see," Teddy agreed.  
  
Maurice crawled over to the cupboards, leaned against them, and cried quietly against his crossed arms.  
  
Teddy stood up and went to Goldstein. "He's not going to do anything else."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Can I talk to him privately?"  
  
"Somewhere else might be a better place for it. I can't leave anyone alone in here until we have everything catalogued."  
  
Teddy nodded, and went back to Maurice. It took a few minutes to get him to his feet, but once he was standing, he quietly allowed Teddy to lead him outside, up Knockturn Alley, then to the first safe place he came to--the Charmpress office. Frankie stood up behind the front desk when they came in, and, without saying a word, led them into the inner office, where Daffy had several quills set to copying out a text (it wasn't _Martian's Mistake_ , but that was all Teddy was sure of). Daffy Conjured a pair of chairs.  
  
"Stay as long as you like," he said, and ducked out front, carrying a pile of mail with him.   
  
Frankie hovered in the door. "Burke," he said, "what do you need?"  
  
Maurice shook his head and said, "I don't know. Could you call Don? And maybe Corky?"  
  
Frankie left, and closed the door.  
  
"They'll have lunch for you," Teddy said. "And every friend they can find."  
  
Maurice managed a ghastly smile, and said, "I know. Thanks." He took a shaky breath. "Teddy, I have to _do_ something."  
  
"Trust me, I know."  
  
"What, then?"  
  
Teddy shook his head. "I can't answer that. You have to do what's right by them. And you know they wouldn't want you using spells out of Borgin's book."  
  
"I know. But I... I can't seem to _think_."  
  
"Of course you can't right now. But you will."  
  
During the next fifteen minutes, Maurice managed to get some control of his crying, and Frankie, true to form, brought in everyone who cared about Maurice that he could find. Donzo took over comforting, and Corky, who'd Flooed in this morning when he'd got the news, organized Tinny, Honoria, Roger, Laura, and Jane into a crew to get the Burke flat in order and cover up the window that faced out on the shop. He sent back a Patronus when it was ready, and Teddy and Donzo brought Maurice back there, ostensibly to gather his things, mainly to get him to somewhere more private than a publishing house. Frankie followed with a large lunch that Tinny's parents had made.  
  
"Thanks, everyone," Maurice said, when he'd got his school trunk and Wendell's packed and sent on to Granny's. "There are things I need to do. I don't know exactly _how_..."  
  
"We'll take care of... you know," Donzo offered.  
  
"The burial," Teddy clarified.  
  
Maurice shook his head. "No. That's something to think about. I'll do it. I can do that. But I don't know if they have a... a place for it."  
  
"They do."  
  
Everyone looked up. Ruthless was standing in the door, not quite crossing the threshold. She had a scroll in her hand.  
  
"Ruth," Maurice said. "Come in."  
  
"I--"  
  
"Come _in_."  
  
She entered tentatively. "They, er... they had a will. And there's property. For burying them. In Godric's Hollow." She held out the scroll, and looked away. "I was going to tell Goldstein to bring it, but--"  
  
Maurice stood and went to her slowly. He took the scroll, then put his hand on her chin and turned her face toward him.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said.  
  
"The bastard went after you, too," he said.  
  
She nodded miserably. "But--"  
  
"And you're going to get him, aren't you?"  
  
She straightened her shoulders and said, "If I have to chase him into hell."  
  
He nodded. "Invite me along if I won't slow you down."  
  
After that, he invited her to help them finish eating the prodigious amount of food the Gudgeons had sent--he barely touched it himself--and they all settled into a silent, somber lunch. When they'd finished, they all went back to Granny's together (except for Ruthless, who was on duty and was fierce about getting back to the search), and Granny helped Maurice through the logistics of what would come next.   
  
She seemed to understand his need to focus on minutiae, as, over the next few days, she piled minor tasks onto him--headstone inscriptions, liturgical texts, the business of the funeral... anything that kept him busy. This left Teddy caring for Wendell, who simply wanted to be allowed to cry when he wanted to and sleep the rest of the time.  
  
The funeral was on Wednesday morning. Uncle Harry kept out the press, except for Rita Skeeter (who attended as a friend, but hadn't forgotten her quill), and the eulogy, though Maurice wrote it, was delivered by Corky, since, at the end of all the work, Maurice had found himself unable to speak clearly. After the funeral, they proceeded to the graveside, where the bodies were magically interred. A stone arc grew from the head of each grave, and they twined together like vines--or snakes--in the middle. Beneath the new arch, a stone bench appeared with the Burkes' names on it and the Biblical inscription, "The voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground."  
  
After it was over, Donzo and Corky led the Burkes away. Teddy remained in the churchyard. He rarely came here--his parents were more real to him in his dreams, in the portraits, in the memories stored in Dad's ring, then they were here, in the place where their bones lay quietly beneath the earth.  
  
But he _was_ here, so he walked through the churchyard, past the war memorial, to the unremarkable row of graves where both his parents and Uncle Harry's were buried, side by side. The Potters' grave was occasionally visited by tourists, but not often; a fall of rotted roses lay at the base, and Teddy cleared it away absently. He squatted down in front of his parents' stone and touched the cold marble. It was engraved with their names and two verses--Uncle Harry had chosen "For Thou art with me" and Granny, much more like Maurice, had picked "Justice, Justice shall ye pursue." Teddy wasn't sure which one he'd have chosen himself. Maybe the one about honoring thy father and thy mother.  
  
He sighed and cleared away some weeds that had grown, one of which was partially obscuring Dad's name. "I should come here more," he said. "Keep it clean, at least."  
  
There was no answer. He could feel Death hovering here, but not Mum and Dad.  
  
"Could you help me help him?" he asked anyway. "And... Mum, give them a hand--Maurice's parents, I mean--on the other side? I don't reckon they're any happier than their sons are about being taken away. They could use some Hufflepuff... kindness, I suppose."  
  
A hand fell heavily on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Uncle Harry. Uncle Harry smiled faintly. "There's kindness," he said.  
  
Teddy stood up. "I guess you'd know." He pointed at the graves. "I cleaned up a little."  
  
"I should do that sometimes," Uncle Harry said, then grimaced. "I hate it here."  
  
"So do I."  
  
"Don't bury me here."  
  
"I'm not burying you at all."  
  
Uncle Harry stopped. "I'm sorry, Teddy. I shouldn't have brought that up today. Just... being here."  
  
"I know," Teddy said.  
  
"Are you going back to school when the train leaves on Friday?"  
  
Teddy nodded. "Yes. But I'm going to work it out with Sprout to tutor Maurice through his N.E.W.T.s, so I'll be back. Granny's going to send Wendell along as soon as she thinks he can face it."  
  
Uncle Harry looked at Mum and Dad's grave. "Your dad thought you'd have a happier world. He fought so you'd have a happier world. Look at this mess I've let happen."  
  
Teddy turned to him. "Uncle Harry, there's no war. The war is over, and that's what he wanted. That's what they fought for. Sam Cresswell wanted to start it again. But you're not going to let him."  
  
"Of course not," Uncle Harry said. "No one wants that."  
  
But as the shock faded over the next two weeks, the latter part at least was proved wrong.

* * *

After the funerals--the Malfoys saw to Borgin (Teddy neither knew nor cared where they'd had him interred)--everything in the world seemed to turn to cleaning up. The Aurors finished their investigations both in the shop and in Ruthless's apartment. George Weasley and Verity Jordan went to the shop to get it cleaned and reorganized so that Maurice wouldn't be ambushed at every turn by reminders of the crime, and Narcissa Malfoy hired someone to re-design the front of the shop so that the window wouldn't even be in the configuration.  
  
Meanwhile, to Teddy's surprise, Victoire took the lead in repairing Ruthless's flat.. "I was angry at you, not her," she explained tersely. " _She_ had no idea what was going on."  
  
Teddy had actually expected Ruthless to get a new flat, but she'd admitted shamefacedly that she couldn't afford to do so, and had reacted with such fury when Teddy suggested that he could help that he determined never to offer such a thing again.  
  
Victoire marshalled resources as well as she could--Ruthless wouldn't permit her to buy anything--and Teddy found himself working with her, Fleur, Bill, Marie, Aimee, Story Shacklebolt, the Potter children, and Aunt Ginny (who had some experience with taming unfriendly living spaces). Granny donated some furniture that had been in the attic--pre-emptively thanking Ruthless for finally getting it off of her hands--and Victoire's great-grandmother had an extra set of dishes. Teddy found one of Dad's drawings (a little street scene in Hogsmeade) and framed it, and Aunt Ginny brought a wine-colored rug from the damaged upper stories at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. ("I'm reasonably sure there are no curses on this one, but Ruth's an Auror; she can handle it if one turns up.") Victoire frowned at all of this as it sat in a meaningless clump, then made a series of decisions and set everyone to work. James took several pictures of Ogden, and Marie put them in little frames and made them dance across the top of the wall over the windows. Teddy paid special attention to dismantling the entire bedroom and reorienting the new furniture so it would seem like an entirely different place. He also magically enhanced the wardrobe so that it took up less space--it actually hung like a wall mirror--and held more on the inside. By the time they were done, it looked quite different, and Ruthless gave it several suspicious looks when she came back--Teddy supposed she was trying to gauge whether or not they'd bought anything--then embraced Victoire and thanked her.  
  
Two days after they finished, the Hogwarts Express left London, and Teddy returned to school.  
  
He was quite glad that Wendell Burke had decided that he wasn't ready yet.  
  
At Granny's, the Burke boys would undoubtedly be at least a bit sheltered--Granny would see to it--but the murders were the talk of every House table. After the funeral, Rita Skeeter had printed a piece in the _Daily Prophet_ about her own harrowing experience, and it had turned into a free-for-all in the letters section, and in several small papers that seemed to spring up on their own, and which many Hogwarts students seemed to subscribe to.  
  
In short, while everyone agreed that murder was a terrible sort of thing, all of the focus was on the murderer. Now that everyone knew it was Sam Cresswell, he'd become quite famous, with people trading the facts of his life the way they traded Chocolate Frog cards.  
  
"I hear it was Goyle that hit his brother in the head with a Bludger, and he's barely been able to walk or talk since."  
  
"Runcorn turned in his dad, you know."  
  
"Yeah, but _Fudge_ kept files on him, that's how Runcorn knew..."  
  
"Is it true there would have been another brother, if it hadn't been for the killings at St. Mungo's?"  
  
It was generally agreed that the strike on Borgin and Burke's--and that was how the murders were coming to be described, as a "strike"--had been the first volley of a wider attack on _all_ of the Voldemort collaborators who'd been left to go about their business. There seemed to be a consensus in certain groups that Maurice's parents had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but that Borgin had somehow deserved to be cut up, force fed gold coins until he choked, and left pinned up in the window of his shop.   
  
Not that anyone _said_ this, precisely. Condemnation of the crimes was universal. But the indignities suffered by the Cresswell family seemed to have touched a nerve among war survivors... and their children, who hadn't known the horror of battle, were certainly more interested in Cresswell's motives than his crimes.   
  
The teachers tried to put a stop to this, but, to no one's surprise, Geoff Phillips wrote a column in the _Charmer_ accusing them of assaulting free speech. Teddy confronted Honoria about this, and she ground her teeth and told him that Geoffrey had a legitimate point of view, no matter how much she disliked it. She did a piece in the next issue, interviewing Goyle's widow and Fudge's grandchildren and Maurice. This seemed to at least embarrass some of the chattering classes, and by the end of January, only a small core of malcontents were still trying to justify. Unfortunately, they were _vocal_ malcontents, and most of them had bought t-shirts from Geoff. It was strictly against school rules to wear them, but Teddy had a feeling Wendell would be exposed at least a few times.  
  
Around the same time the Cresswell story started to die down, the Headmistress came through with permission for Teddy to tutor Maurice through his NEWTs. He could go back to London each Sunday night, provided his own work didn't go downhill. On Sunday, the twenty-fifth of January, he made his first trip.  
  
Maurice was preparing to move back to the family's flat once he sent Wendell back to school, and it was there that Teddy met him. He still looked tired and drawn. To Teddy's surprise, there was a girl in the flat--quite a pretty one, with a cloud of curly light brown hair and big, sparkly eyes.  
  
She stuck out her hand. "Kelly Sweet," she said.  
  
"New client," Maurice said. "I can't very well tour with her--or Don these days--but as she reminded me, I don't have to in order to manage her finances."  
  
"Donzo says you're the best," she said, and Teddy understood from her rather sheepish smile that Donzo had actually put her up to this. He also felt acutely disconnected; he hadn't the faintest idea who this girl was, and Donzo hadn't mentioned a thing about her.  
  
Maurice noticed the confusion. "We met Kelly after you came back here this summer. She's with a band--"  
  
"Enchantress," Kelly clarified.  
  
"--and they opened for us in San Francisco."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Kelly gave another awkward smile, then said, "Well, I'll be seeing you, Moe. I'll leave you to your studies." She ducked out and disappeared.  
  
"I'm, er... glad you're keeping up with that," Teddy said.  
  
Maurice didn't answer. He sat down. "Do you think Wendell can go back with you?" he asked. "I had him pack his bags, in case it was all right, but... it's been odd here."  
  
"At Hogwarts, too," Teddy admitted. "But it's getting better."  
  
"Phillips?"  
  
"And a few of his loyal minions." Teddy sighed. "It's not that they're saying--"  
  
Maurice waved it off. "I know. It's been the same here. _'Oh, we're so sorry your parents got caught up in this... isn't it awful what poor Cresswell went through?'_ " Maurice curled his lip. "Poor Cresswell's going to have a lot more to whine about if Scrimgeour and I get our hands on him."  
  
"Maurice..."  
  
"I know. I know. They'll catch him and bring him to trial and put him in Azkaban. And that's going to be a mess. They'll all be going on about what he went through and how horrible in must have been for him. And my parents will just continue to be dead. Who cares about them, really? Their story is boring. They were very careful to make sure we had a boring story."  
  
Teddy considered engaging this, then shook his head. "I'll take Wendell back if you think he's ready. I'm sure Neil will help him. Neil understands. Remember when Greyback killed his parents, and Mathilde DuBois went on about how they were all just a happy family that had been wronged by the Aurors?"  
  
"Right. Why do people buy hippogriff dung like that?" He shrugged and answered his own question. "It's always on sale at quite a bargain, I suppose," he said. "Should we start with Defense Against the Dark Arts? We were on Cursebreaking, weren't we?"  
  
Teddy blinked, then remembered why he was here. "Right. Cursebreaking." He dug out a note from Robards. "There's an essay; you'll need to do it. Your choice of topic. Did you read the article I sent you about the Kikuyu Curse-breaker?"  
  
"The one with the chameleon? I wasn't entirely clear on what he did..."  
  
Teddy settled into teaching, sharing what Robards had shared and getting Maurice to look beyond the surface of the counter-curses to understand the underlying theory, which always seemed to stymy him. When they finished, they moved on to Arithmancy, then to Herbology (Professor Longbottom had sent a selection of plants for Maurice to tend over the next few months). When they finished, they went back to Granny's to collect Wendell, who was pale and quiet, but no longer visibly distressed. Granny got him bundled into a cloak--he was too big for this, but seemed to need the contact--and Maurice walked out with them to the Disapparition point.  
  
"Lupin, you don't have to keep coming," he said.  
  
Teddy didn't even acknowledge this. "I'll see you next Sunday."  
  
"Keep an eye on my brother."  
  
"I will. We all will."  
  
They nodded to one another, then Teddy offered his arm to Wendell, who gripped it tightly. Teddy pulled him back into Hogsmeade, and they walked to the school gates together.

* * *

Two days later, Wendell seemed to have disappeared into Slytherin House. Teddy frequently saw him phalanxed by Neil Overby and the group of misfits who were his friends--apparently, Neil had decided that Wendell was in his pack now, and was guarding him from any chance sighting of unpleasant reminders. Teddy waved to Wendell on Tuesday and was met with a bemused raise of a hand as the younger boy was herded off toward Divination.

  
"Maurice will be glad to hear that," Donzo said in Transfiguration, where he and Teddy were trying to turn the page of a Muggle book into a robot that had been drawn on it. "He's never been convinced Wendell would fit in. We talked about that a lot last summer."  
  
"Where was I?" Teddy asked.  
  
Donzo looked up, confused. "Weren't you there? I thought... no, I guess you weren't. Maybe he meant that to just be between us."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Or maybe it was just after you left."  
  
"Like Kelly Sweet?"  
  
"What about Kelly?"  
  
"Who is she? Maurice said you met her in San Francisco, after I left."  
  
Donzo shrugged. "Oh. No, I actually met her last summer in North Carolina. We just ran into her in San Francisco, and--"  
  
"You met a girl over a year ago and forgot to mention her?"  
  
"Unlike you, I don't fall deeply and significantly in love with a girl on a meeting or two. She's just a girl I know. She's up and coming in the States, and she opened for us when that idiot comic was too drunk to go on."  
  
"She's quite good-looking."  
  
"You met her?"  
  
"She was at Maurice's." Teddy told him about finding her there.  
  
This seemed to surprise him. "I wasn't sure he'd see her again. It was Kelly and her group we were talking to the day... you know. When it happened."  
  
Teddy prodded the edge of the page, trying to get it to turn into the heavy armored wheels in the picture. "Is she with anyone?"  
  
"I'm not setting you up with her."  
  
"I thought she was just a girl you knew..."  
  
They spent the rest of the class in this vein, not achieving anything in the Transfiguration project, then went on to Defense Against the Dark Arts, where Robards, mercifully, had not decided to press on with the issue of the murders, though he admitted having considered it--"The question of how to deal with an Auror, who wields a great deal of power legally and controls the investigation, is an interesting one, but I haven't the heart to consider it, seeing Burke's empty chair." Instead, they moved into the various Resurrection spells, most of which Teddy was offended anyone would have thought he might have tried. If he'd brought Mum and Dad back by doing any of those things, the first thing they would have done was disown him. Corky asked about the story of the Resurrection Stone; Robards said that it only existed in Beadle the Bard. Teddy didn't comment.  
  
After class, he tried to talk to Victoire, but as he wasn't entirely sure what she was angry about, he couldn't figure out what to apologize for. She rolled her eyes at him and walked away.  
  
On Sunday, he went back to London. Maurice had re-opened, and they had lessons in the shop. Maurice occasionally looked skittish, and studiously avoided the front of the shop, but he seemed determined to get to business as usual. He'd put up a small sign that said, "Under new management, expect changes," but said that no one had tried to sell him anything out of the ordinary. He was corresponding with various magical antique sellers--"I need to restock, regardless"--when Teddy got there. He had also selected a pile of ten cursed items. "Borgin's private store," he said. "Could you ask Robards if I could do a project on breaking the Curses for credit?"  
  
"He won't like the idea of you doing it without supervision."  
  
Maurice rolled his eyes. "Scrimgeour can babysit."  
  
Teddy frowned. "You and Ruthless are spending a lot of time together. Are you...?"  
  
Maurice gave him an odd look, then said, "We have a common enemy."  
  
"Oh. Any news?"  
  
Maurice shook his head. "She's put all of her memories into a Pensieve to make sure she has all the details, and they've checked every place he ever mentioned. Nothing."  
  
Teddy sent her a Patronus when they finished Herbology and Arithmancy (Maurice had been having trouble with his Patronus since the murders), and she agreed to supervise any experimental Curse-breaking. After that, the three of them sat around in Borgin and Burke's, playing Gobstones with a broken string of weakly Cursed pearls. Teddy walked Ruthless back to her flat at ten-thirty. She already seemed more comfortable in it, and had spread her work around on an old coffee table. A knit blanket--Teddy guessed it was from Molly Weasley--was scrunched up on the sofa, and several pairs of her shoes had been kicked haphazardly under chairs. It was certainly not up to Victoire's standards of neatness, but it had a healthy, lived-in feel, rather than the nasty, unwanted feel it had had before.  
  
"Are you safe here?" he asked.  
  
"Maurice and I are both hoping that Sam will be stupid enough to return to the scenes of his crimes. This place is full of traps for him. Didn't you see the elaborate wandwork when I opened the door?"  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Borgin and Burke's is an even bigger trap."  
  
"Does Uncle Harry know?"  
  
"He designed the traps." She smiled. "Don't worry, he has them set up so that, if Sam is caught in one of them, neither Maurice nor I will be able to get to him. Only Harry can undo the traps if they catch anything. Which will be a right pain if I do my unlocking Charms wrong."  
  
"You seem happier," Teddy said.  
  
"It's an act," she admitted. "But if I keep it up long enough, maybe it'll be enough." She headed into the kitchen to make tea. "Will you thank Weasley again for me?" she called. "I was dreading coming back here, but now it's quite nice."  
  
"I'll tell her if she's speaking to me."  
  
"Just apologize."  
  
"I tried. She wants me to guess what I'm apologizing for."  
  
"What, exactly, happened?"  
  
Teddy told her.  
  
She shrugged. "I've got nothing. I'm not very good at that."  
  
"I know. When you're mad, you just tell me why."  
  
"Does Weasley have the slightest idea that you don't have the slightest idea?"  
  
"Probably not."  
  
Ruthless rolled her eyes extravagantly, and changed the subject.  
  
On Monday, Robards said he would write to Maurice and give him safety instructions and expectations for his project, and that he'd give Teddy a copy of both for tutoring purposes.  
  
On the sixth of February, Victoire got an owl from Ruthless during breakfast. Teddy looked at it with some trepidation, but he didn't find out what was in it until later that evening. He was sitting in the Common Room, studying, and Victoire pulled a chair up to the table where he was sitting. The letter was in her hands.  
  
"Christmas," she said.  
  
Teddy looked up. "What about it?"  
  
"You weren't planning to spend the afternoon with me and the evening with Ruth. You weren't planning to spend the day with me at all."  
  
"Well..."  
  
"I'm sorry." She sighed. "Ruth said the plan had been for you to go there all along. That you hadn't said anything. And that you probably had no idea why I was angry at you."  
  
"I assumed it was because we were interrupted."  
  
She shook her head. "I thought you were just playing with me. That you meant to kiss me, then wander off. But you weren't planning to kiss me at all, were you?"  
  
"I was by the time we... well, by the time..." Teddy closed his book. "It occurred to me, and I wanted to, and I never thought about what would come after it."  
  
"That's more or less what Ruth said you'd say. She said I needed to explain these things to you."  
  
"She always had rules," Teddy said. "She laid them out and explained them to me. I don't know your rules."  
  
"I don't have rules."  
  
"Then how did I break one?"  
  
"That's a good question." Victoire smiled. "I'm sorry. I should have just said something."  
  
"Well..."  
  
"Do you, er... want to finish what we started?"  
  
Teddy leaned in.  
  
She pulled away. "Not in here, Teddy. My sisters are right over there." She pointed to the fireplace, where Aimee and Marie were, indeed, looking over at them. "They'll tell Dad, and he's determined that no one's going out with me until after O.W.L.s."  
  
"That makes it difficult," Teddy said.  
  
"Well, I wasn't planning to send him a picture." Victoire bit her lip. "Sorry. I guess... sorry." She stood up.  
  
Teddy grabbed her hand, and nudged her to sit down again. "You know, there's a Hogsmeade weekend around Valentine's Day."  
  
"I know."  
  
"So, er... if were to accidentally stop in for coffee, and it was someplace where there are little cupids and so on, then it wouldn't be going out, exactly, just going with the spirit of things--"  
  
"Teddy, are you asking me to Mrs. Puddifoot's?"  
  
"We could stop in there. Whilst having a perfectly normal day in Hogsmeade which happens to be around Valentine's Day."  
  
She grinned widely. "It's not a date."  
  
"I'll meet you at breakfast."  
  
"Is this mad?"  
  
"Probably."  
  
He let her walk away, and went back to his Transfiguration homework. He felt he ought to feel uncomfortable about the subject, but he was oddly pleased. A plain, clear-cut date--whatever they were calling it for other people--would be much easier than the confusion and strangeness of their relationship so far this year.  
  
By the time he'd finished, she'd gone up to her dormitory. He went up to his, and fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. He dreamed of his grandfather, and the woods, and fishing, but he didn't remember it in the morning.


	16. By A Thread (2): The Hufflepuffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honoria continues her series, introducing the four Hufflepuffs in the Smallest Year.

Volume 7, Issue 15

| 

_15 January 2016_  
  
---|---  
  
 

 **By A Thread**  
  
 **Tinny Gudgeon: Urban Planner**  
Part 6 of 16

"Do you have to take my picture?" Ernestine Gudgeon asks. "My hair always looks I glued it to my head in in pictures. And my teeth..." She wrinkles her nose. "Really, do you have to?"  
  
Once resigned to having her photograph taken in her favorite chair in the Hufflepuff Common Room, Tinny gets up to find decent seating for her guests. Once everyone is seated, Cecil Morgan, a younger Hufflepuff, offers to get snacks from the nearby kitchen. Tinny tells him to let Winky--the lead kitchen elf--tend to lunch instead.  
  
"Welcome to Hufflepuff," she says, somewhat self-consciously. "You'll never starve here."  
  
In point of fact, with or without help from the kitchens, she has seen to it that a small table is filled with food--sweets, nuts, bread, and fruit--and Summons a pitcher of pumpkin juice to share. She does this without paying attention to it. It is partly, perhaps, because her parents own the popular Diagon Alley restaurant, The Willow, where she works during summer holidays, but she considers this causation "perfectly backward--my parents opened a restaurant because we love to feed people. This is just who I am. And I have a lot of practice feeding guests after six and a half years of Muggles and Minions." She grins.  
  
The game, for those unfamiliar with it, is a role-playing scenario, in which players take on various Muggle roles, and roll dice to pull themselves through tricky situations without using magic. Tinny's character, a police detective called Anna Lutz, has been retired for two years, though, as she has taken over the role of "Urban Planner"--the director of the game--from her long-time boyfriend, Francis Apcarne, who left the post when he began studying for his N.E.W.T.s. In speaking of the long-standing game, Tinny becomes more animated. "Nine years, now. Frankie started it when he came, and it'll go on after I leave--Cecil's keeping it here at Hufflepuff. Not a bad life span for an unofficial club!"

  
What is the draw of the somewhat unusual, complicated game for Tinny and her tight-knit circle, which includes year-mates Teddy Lupin and Donzo McCormack?  
  
"It's different for everyone. For me, it's that I really get to know people, and the way they play. So I can sit down and start putting a game together, and I'll think, 'Oh, this one's going to make Story think for once!' or 'Cecil's going to love it if I put them there.' For the others? I don't know. It's just a fun way to spend an evening. Something to do while you're sitting around and eating. Definitely more fun than gossiping. And I've learned a lot about Muggles, too. I don't think I'd have ever got exposed to a lot of it without the game."  
  
The daughter of David and Susannah (Dawlish) Gudgeon, Tinny is one of only two wizard-born students in the smallest year who was born in Britain (the other being Teddy Lupin). At the time of her birth, her mother worked in the office of Dolores Umbridge, and her father had a concession stand in the Ministry lobby. "Trust me, Mum did not agree with anything in the office," Tinny says. "I'd love to tell you a great story about how she sabotaged things, but she told me I couldn't--she was pregnant, and that's not a time a woman takes risks with her life. Dad wasn't taking any risks, either. They both wish they had." She sighs. "But the fact was, they had no gold than what their jobs brought in. They needed them. Mum's brother worked in the Auror division, and he got her the Ministry post, and Dad had put everything into his booth. They felt they needed to make things work, so they did. The only thing they _could_ do was try to put some kindness into the place that year, in whatever small ways they could. After the war, Mum presented evidence at Umbridge's trial..." She trails off, then sighs again. "I don't know what I would have done."  
  
Since arriving at school, Tinny's major activity has been the Muggles and Minions club, and she has kept a low profile otherwise.  
  
"Not deliberately!" she says with a laugh. "I can't imagine what I'd have a high profile _about_ , really. My marks are average. I don't look like anything special. I stay out of trouble."  
  
Except for first year, of course, when, along with Apcarne and Lupin, she was trapped in a fire in the Forbidden Forest, after being beaten by Red Caps.  
  
"I was unconscious through most of that," she says. "Really, I got hit a lot, and then I was coughing. I dreamed about the Whomping Willow and a big black dog--not the stuff great stories are made of. Then Professor Longbottom carried me back to the castle."  
  
With three N.E.W.T.s--Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, and Ancient Runes--Tinny is unsure of her future profession. "There's not a lot," she said. "I don't mean to have one of those jobs that define me. I want to be Tinny, and do whatever there is that needs to be done. Copywork, waiting tables, working in shops... it doesn't matter. At the moment, I have, well, we'll say something of an offer to be of help in a new publishing house, but I'm waiting for that offer to firm up before I make a commitment to it. And I'll probably keep helping my parents with the restaurant in any case. I just find that it doesn't matter to me at all what I end up doing for a living... though I hope it's not taken over by a Dark wizard whilst I'm doing it."

 

* * *

 

Volume 7, Issue 16

| 

_22 January 2016_  
  
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**By A Thread**  
  
 **Joe Palmer: The Fluke**  
Part 7 of 16

When Joe Palmer took his first flying lesson at Hogwarts, no one in his class thought he would be one to hold a Quidditch record. "That was all Frank Driscoll," he says. "I remember watching him fly that first day--the first time he ever got on a broom--and thinking that I'd never figure it out. And he was just doing it naturally!"   
  
Nevertheless, despite the indisputable flying skills of Ravenclaw Seeker Driscoll, it is Palmer, not he, whose name has reached the trophy room. Last year, in a game against Slytherin, Palmer shattered the record for goals scored in a single Hogwarts game, previously held by Ginevra Weasley (Potter), who scored one hundred eighty points in her own seventh year championship game. At two hundred thirty points--twenty-three goals--it seems unlikely that Palmer's new record will be challenged in the near future.  
  
"It was a fluke," he says. "No one who has that good a game actually deserves to have had it. The wind was on my side, and your Keeper had the sun in his eyes, and I just had a lucky day in the air. And what wasn't luck was mostly from other people. The Hufflepuff Beaters kept everyone off of me, and my fellow Chasers--Ellie Smith and Lila Bones, last year--flew great support. It was bad luck for them that their goals didn't go in when I was on support."  
  
Any chance of a career in professional Quidditch?  
  
Joe shrugs. "I'm not ruling it out. I've had a few talks with recruiters. My parents want me to make sure I have other options, though. They really don't have any idea how big Quidditch is, being non-magical. I tried to explain that it's a bit like football, but I'm not sure they believe me. Or maybe they do, and just don't think I ought to stake my future on becoming Beckham" (apparently, a once well-known player of the Muggle game of football).  
  
William and Nan Palmer may not entirely understand Quidditch, but they did understand early on that their younger son had talents his siblings didn't share. "We were ready for it, actually," Nan, a homemaker, says. "Not long after Joe was born, we had a visit from Miss Chang, who was working that year to protect Muggles and Muggle-borns. She said his name was on a list. Now, we thought she was a bit mad, but it seemed less trouble to let her go about waving a stick at the walls than to have her taken away. She said she'd be right out of the house, and she was--never heard of her again until she took the Potions post. But before she was even gone, our little baby started crying, and, wouldn't you know it, his bottle had got red hot in his hand. Miss Chang just laughed and said, 'I see he thought it was too cold.' So we knew. Of course we knew. I know some of the other Muggle-borns weren't found right off and didn't get protection--all of the Muggle parents keep in touch this year, so we don't feel quite as alone as we might--but we did. I'm thankful for it. I didn't know at the time what she meant to protect us from, and now that I do know, I'm glad I didn't. I'd have been scared out of my wits."  
  
Construction worker William Palmer is less impressed. "I'd always rather know what I'm dealing with, and I've never much cared for the secrecy. We had a right to know who might be after us, even if it never came to anything. And they really ought to have talked to all the parents of babies showed up on that list. And they ought to do that every year, not just when there's a war. Be up front about it."  
  
"Dad's not wild for secrets," Joe says mildly when this is relayed to him. "He thinks they cause more problems than they're worth. I haven't decided what I think, except I agree about telling the parents of Muggle-borns early on. And offering some help in getting ready! I spent the whole first year feeling a step behind. At least we're in our year, though. Everyone--well, almost everyone--has made a real effort to get along with everyone else. And my dormitory-mate, Roger, is Muggle-born as well, so we were in it together."  
  
Does Palmer think that the experience of Muggle-borns in our year is different from that of other years?  
  
"I think every experience in our year is different," he says, looking surprised that the question would be asked. "Being Muggle-born is different, sure--no one in my family was lost in the war, which none of the wizard-born can say. I don't have any bone-deep memories of it. In the Muggle world, the last eighteen years have been consumed by other things, so I don't have the sort of personal sense of loss that the wizard-born have. Or are you talking about the mad Muggle-born agitation coming from some quarters?" He rolls his eyes. "I have better things to do, like clipping my toenails and watching mushrooms grow."

 

* * *

 

Volume 7, Issue 17

| 

_29 January 2016_  
  
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**By A Thread**  
  
 **Laura Chapman: All the Pretty Girls**  
Part 8 of 16

In the Muggle world, Laura Chapman's mother was once known as Felice, and her name raised the interest of industry moguls and world-renowned fashion artists alike. When our war began, her star was on the rise in another world.  
  
But she was of our world. At Hogwarts, she was known as Felicity Moore. She refers to herself as a "below average" student, but her teachers remember her as one who worked hard and did her best. Leaving school after O.W.L.s, she went to the Muggle world for work, discovered modeling--a much more important profession among Muggles, who use photography of various sorts for all of their advertisements--and was building a very successful career. Older readers may have seen her familiar face on signs by the road, on posters in windows, or, at the end of her career, on the cover of the Muggle fashion magazine called _Vogue_. At the same time, she had fallen in love with and married successful photographer Elliot Chapman, who became her champion and manager, as well as her primary photographer.  
  
"I'd never met anyone like Felicity," he says. "I wasn't particularly surprised when, after our wedding, she told me she was a witch--I felt like she'd cast a spell over me quite efficiently!"  
  
These days, Felicity (Moore) Chapman is no longer seen gracing high profile magazines or advertisements. Indeed, she rarely sits for family pictures, and would not agree to a picture for this article.  
  
While still basking in the success of her magazine cover, the Chapmans had a visit from the Death Eaters. "We'd had a party," Felicity says. "Some industry friends. One of them had left her handbag, and I assumed, when there was a knock at the door, that she was just coming back for it. I had it in my hand. I'd actually said, 'I wondered when you'd notice it was missing' before I turned my head. The man standing there was hooded and masked, and I still don't know who he was. He called me a blood traitor, then raised his wand. The next thing I knew..."  
  
She pulls back her long red hair and fully reveals the ruins of her lovely face. Although she would not permit a picture, she gave leave to describe the spell damage--her cheeks were strafed with scar tissue, her mouth drawn down into a mime's frown. Her nose was flayed. It has since been repaired, but the scarring remains in a butterfly pattern. But the Death Eater who attacked her particularly destroyed her striking eyes, both of which have been replaced with magical substitutes.  
  
"I didn't want the fancy sort," Felicity says. "I can't see through walls and I don't want to. But at least I can see, for whatever its worth."  
  
After the attack, Elliott Chapman used a private flight, previously scheduled for a photo shoot, to remove his wife from the country. They settled in Milan, which was where what repairs could be made, were... and where she discovered that she was going to have a child.  
  
It was there, in Italy's largest city, that Laura was born.

 

"I don't remember much about it," she says. "We came back when I was five. But Daddy took pictures at some of the great shows, and I remember all the beautiful girls in beautiful dresses. I wanted to be one of them, but Mum and Daddy... well, you can imagine that they didn't like the thought of me doing what got Mum hurt." She smiles. "I remember my first bit of accidental magic, though. I turned my little dress into one like the girl walking around was in, and her designer about exploded thinking that someone had stolen his design to make a child's dress before it was even sold. That's when Mum and Daddy decided it might be best to keep me in the wizarding world after all, especially since the war was over and the Death Eaters were gone."   
  
From the start of the smallest year, Laura has been seen as "the pretty girl"--identified by her china blue eyes and thick, wavy blond hair more than by her interests in Divination and Charms. She describes this circumstance as her own "fault," as she was never interested in making a name for herself. She never achieved heights of popularity, but has certainly never lacked company. Her two best friends are her roommate, Tinny Gudgeon, and Lizzie Richardson, of Ravenclaw--the latter becoming a friend after a public spat over a boy turned into a point of common ground. "Why not?" Laura asks. "We were fourteen, and he turned out not to be especially interested in either of us. So why not be friends? And because we're generous human beings, we're friends with him as well." She winks.  
  
Unlike the rest of the year, Laura considered leaving school after O.W.L.s. "I like Charms," she said, "but I'm not especially good at it, and I'm not likely to go on in the field. As far as Divination goes, I might well set up a shop to tell fortunes, much to Professor Firenze's distress, but you don't need N.E.W.T. for that. I just think it would be fun." She bites her lip. "But when it came to it, I couldn't leave. I needed to go through with my year, see it to the end. And I didn't want to leave poor Tinny living alone. We've got quite used to one another."  
  
What of next year?  
  
Laura feigns fear with an exaggerated shiver. "What of next year? It seems to be coming up quite fast, doesn't it?" She runs a hand through her hair, pushing it up over one ear. "I know the world I know," she says. "My father has taught me photography, and I actually would like to go on with that. I've no interest in the sort of photojournalism that the _Prophet_ uses, but I think it's time to bring beauty back into the world. I should like to be an artist." She brightens at this. "You know, that's the first time I've said that. I should like to be an artistic photographer. I think there are a lot of interesting things that can be done with wizarding photography, and we settle for snapshots."  
  
A pretty girl like Laura Chapman  behind the camera?  
  
She laughs. "But you don't understand--I think we're all the pretty girls. And I think I intend to prove it."

 

* * *

Volume 7, Issue 18

| 

_5 February 2016_  
  
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**By A Thread**  
  
 **Roger Young: A World With Hippogriffs**  
Part 9 of 16

Working in the hippogriff barn is apparently hot work, as Roger Young has shed his tee shirt to work only in his blue jeans on an afternoon in early February. "The animals are all in here when it's cold outside," he explains, pouring grain into a trough for a unicorn foal. "That makes it pretty toasty when you're carrying around barrels of feed and bales of hay. A lot of them are spooked by Levitation, so it has to be done by hand. Easy work if you're Professor Hagrid--not so easy when you're me." He grins, and makes a show of flexing a muscle in one skinny arm, then turns in response to a nicker from the unicorn. He holds out a lump of sugar, and the unicorn takes it. Patting its neck, he says, "She won't put up with me much longer--unicorns are quite sexist--but for now, she's fine with anyone who gives her sweets."  
  
Roger, a short, thin boy with shoulder-length, straight blond hair cut square around his face, has unofficially begun his apprenticeship. The official training can't start until after N.E.W.T.s, but Professor Hagrid--who is looking forward to retirement in three years' time--has already set him to the sorts of tasks he'll be doing for the next two years, as he trains to take over the post as Keeper of the Keys and groundskeeper at Hogwarts. "I might take on the teaching as well," Roger says. "But that's up to the Headmistress, and of course I'd need to learn how to do that. The two jobs weren't always tied together, you know. It's only been since Professor Hagrid took over twenty years ago."  
  
Although Muggle-born, Roger took immediately to the world of Magical Creatures, successfully lobbying the Ministry of Magic at the end of his fourth year to allow him to keep magical pets in his Muggle environments over the summer. "My grandfather has land in Yorkshire," he explains. "It used to be a farm--he couldn't afford to keep it running--and it's in the middle of nowhere. Who was going to see? There were wizard-born folk in the middle of London keeping fancy hippogriffs. I couldn't see where keeping an Augery in Yorkshire was going to violate the Statute of Secrecy any more, and--thanks to Hermione Weasley--the Wizengamot agreed. Of course, they live here with Hagrid during the year--none of them are approved school pets." He leads the way to the back of the barn, where two birdcages stand in front of three stalls. "This is the Augery," he says. "She was my first pet, and she always warns me when it's going to rain. So her name is Stormy. And this one"--he goes to the second cage--"This one's an Ouzelum, all the way from Australia. It was the first one I wanted, but I didn't win that time. She flies backwards. Beautiful isn't she?" In the stalls, there's a sleeping Crup ("I call him Satan, for the tail"), a Clabbert called Green Boy who was born here at Hogwarts and has been in Roger's special care ("Stay back; you don't want him throwing things at you"), and an unusually tame Porlock whose name, for reasons Roger no longer remembers, is Eugene. "He guards the other animals. I was glad to find him."  
  
Caring for animals wasn't new to Roger when he came to Hogwarts. He'd adopted stray cats and dogs for most of his childhood, and his parents' home in the Kentish countryside allowed him to learn horseback riding, as well as exposing him to the wild animals of the world. "I still haven't seen a zoo leopard in the wild, though. It makes a handy excuse when one of our creatures gets out, because there are always stories about roaming zoo leopards, but really, Muggle zoos are guarded a bit better than that. My mum's best friend is a zookeeper, and I used to go when it was closed to watch her feeding them. There's no way any of them are roaming about the countryside."  
  
How has his family responded to the magical world?  
  
He shrugs, and starts back to the main part of the barn, where the hippogriffs are demanding their supper. "They don't know what to make of it. They knew I could do odd things, of course, and it wasn't a surprise, but it's not like Joe's family. No one came to warn us during the war. All my parents knew about what was going on was that there were strange, awful accidents happening. Dad said he thought there were political attacks that no one was telling us about--the Irish again, or maybe the Welsh nationalists. The idea that there were Dark wizards murdering people didn't quite occur to him." He fishes for some dead rats, and begins to throw them to the hungry hippogriffs. "I don't know if I think they should have told everyone what was going on, or if I'm glad they didn't. I mean, what would Muggles have done about it? They couldn't have set up defenses. On the other hand, no one likes to be kept in the dark. It's a bit insulting when you think about it." He considers this. "On another hand altogether, I don't fancy spending the rest of my life having teenage girls come up and ask if I can make the boys they like fall madly in love with them, either, and you know that would happen if everyone knew."  
  
He finishes feeding the hippogriffs, and goes to the stable of the older one, Buckbeak, to pat his beak. "It's not a bad world, you know," he says thoughtfully. He grins over his shoulder. "How bad can it be when there are hippogriffs?"


	17. Love and Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy's uncomfortable attempt at a romance he thought he wanted is interrupted when a fight breaks out in Hogsmeade, bringing the world's confusion over the Needle's Eye to Hogwarts.

Teddy supposed he should have realized before he even met Victoire in the Common Room on Saturday the thirteenth that going out with Victoire had been a horrible idea, no matter how much he wanted to snog her. They'd been raised as family, which didn't make it easy to go out on something that was definitively not a date, but had a suspicious number of date-like trappings. They'd been friends since Victoire had learned to speak, though she annoyed him (and he supposed it was mutual). And the day had begun with Mum questioning his decision to morph to fill out a jumper. He'd argued with her. The other girls he'd gone with had rather liked it when he made an effort.  
  
If there was one immutable rule of life, he thought, it was that an orphan ignored dating advice from his mother at great peril. Victoire had spent most of the walk to Hogsmeade glancing sideways at him and trying not to giggle. She'd got it under control by the time they got to Madam Puddifoot's, but the situation hadn't improved.  
  
They made their way through a pink snow of confetti being dropped by the cupids fluttering near the ceiling, and sat at a little table in a back corner that had a nice view of a fountain in the courtyard. Teddy had discovered this table on a date last year with a girl named Karen Diorbhall, called Doorbell by everyone she knew. Doorbell had declared the fountain the most romantic thing in the world, and Jane had agreed about this a few months later, so it had seemed a good bet.  
  
He ordered their tea before thinking to ask Victoire what she wanted, which wasn't a very auspicious start, he guessed, but then, she'd taken her tea the same way since she was six--a whole lemon slice floating on sugar water that was slightly flavored with tea. He started to make a joke about why she didn't just order hot lemonade and be done with it, but thought that might not be right for a date, no matter what they were actually calling it.  
  
She smiled nervously across the table. Her lips looked very soft, and Teddy thought it would be quite nice to find out if they were, but that didn't seem like a good bit of conversation either.  
  
"So," he said. "Er... how are your classes?"  
  
"Fine. You know."  
  
"Right."  
  
She bit her lip. "And your N.E.W.T.s? How are your... er, are you meeting with Maddie often?"  
  
"Er... Well, not really. I probably ought to. I've been busy with Maurice when I go to London." He winced. That had sounded more like a complaint than an answer. "What do you think you'll take for N.E.W.T.s?"  
  
"Herbology, definitely," Victoire said, encouraged. "And Care of Magical Creatures. Transfiguration. And... well, Professor Longbottom said I should get Potions. He said he ought to have had it, since he's needed to make Potions for his plants." This hopeful line seemed to wane away. "Of course, I really don't know what I want to apprentice for. I haven't really had my Career Advice yet. I'm meant to do that next month. I like plants," she added, then fell uncomfortably silent.  
  
Teddy nodded, and the tea came. They raised their teacups to one another and drank, which at least gave them something to do.  
  
Victoire picked up a biscuit and nibbled on it, but some crumbs fell onto her robes and Teddy reached across to brush them off, then realized that, in context, it wouldn't be a grand idea to touch her chest. She took care of it herself.  
  
"I..." Teddy started, then frowned, trying to think of something she didn't already know.  
  
She drank, then leaned forward eagerly. "Oh, did you know--" She sat back. "Yes, you do know. You were there. Ruth's flat."  
  
"Right. Right, she said to say thank you again, for helping."  
  
Victoire nodded vaguely. "You're seeing Ruth in London?"  
  
"She's... well, she and Maurice are spending a lot of time together."  
  
"Ruth and Maurice? That would be unexpected."  
  
"It's not that. It's a revenge mission."  
  
"Oh." Victoire turned her teacup a few times and stared at the leaves at the bottom. Teddy wondered if they were giving her signs that this wasn't going to be a good day. She looked up and smiled nervously. "Well, I didn't realize you were seeing her. I mean, not to say _seeing_ her. Not that you couldn't, of course." She bit her lip and frowned down at her teacup.  
  
Teddy took a scone and began to break bits off of it aimlessly. He couldn't recall ever having a difficult time talking to Victoire before--she'd always been one of the more clear-cut girls, even when she was mysteriously angry at him. "The book comes out this week," he offered.  
  
She gave him a real, if somewhat overplayed, smile. "Really? Oh, James must be thrilled. He didn't talk about anything else all day on Christmas."  
  
"Yeah, he's writing to me every day with a new idea to start on for the next one. We're going to have to sort them out with Frankie over the summer." Teddy started to warm to the subject, then remembered that James--who was, for all intents and purposes, his brother--was Victoire's cousin, which put everything right back into a family spot, which wasn't right for a date. "Anyway," he added, "it'll be in Flourish and Blotts on Wednesday morning. And Frankie says the pre-sales already paid the advance, so--" He stopped. "Sorry."  
  
"Sorry?"  
  
"I do know better than to talk business on a date." He shook his head. "I'm usually better at this."  
  
"I don't know if I am or not. I've never done this before."  
  
"That's not true. You were on a non-date during the Quarantine two years ago."  
  
"That's different. I didn't know him very well. This is a _real_ non-date. What do you usually do?"  
  
Teddy sighed. "Mostly talk, and then... well, snog a bit. I don't know why the talking isn't working." He considered adding, "Maybe we could just snog instead," but thought better of it before it came out of his mouth.  
  
Victoire shook her head helplessly and took another biscuit from the plate. She stared at it morosely. "We could, er..."  
  
But what she had in mind, Teddy never found out, as a bright flash of light on the ceiling caused the cupids to go scrambling to the far side of the tea shop.  Victoire looked at him helplessly--it was becoming a pattern. Donzo's raccoon Patronus fell from it. Its mouth fell open. "Teddy, Victoire--sending for all the prefects. Weasleys' Zonks. Now."  
  
It disappeared.  
  
Victoire sat up straighter. "What on Earth...?"  
  
"Trouble," Teddy said. He estimated the cost of the tea, dropped enough gold to cover it onto the table, and ran out, Victoire only a few steps behind him.  
  
Weasleys' Zonks--still referred to as Zonko's by most of the teachers--was around the corner and halfway up the next street, and by the time they were halfway there, they'd both doubled the pace of their run.  
  
The front window had shattered outward, and on the street out front, it seemed that at least an entire year was rolling around on the cobblestones, ignoring the broken glass as they rained punches and curses on one another. Teddy could see Lee and Verity Jordan inside the shop, blocked from coming out by a throng of students who were watching.  
  
Donzo was running around the perimeter of the fight, yanking off combatants and tossing them at Honoria and Corky, who seemed to be using a Petrificus hex on them. "Lupin!" he yelled. "You and Weasley start on that side!"  
  
"Can you do the Petrificus?" Teddy asked.  
  
Victoire gave him an irritated look. "I'm not eleven, Teddy."  
  
"Good." He ran into the fray and grabbed the nearest flailing arm. It turned out to be Mina Moran's, and he spun her out into the street in Victoire's direction. Victoire caught her and subdued her while Teddy grabbed her adversary, a fourth year Slytherin whose name Teddy wasn't entirely sure of. By the time he managed to get the boy under control, Story Shacklebolt and Tinny had come, and they waded in from another angle.  
  
Once all of the prefects had arrived, it didn't take long to work their way to the center of the circle, where Neil Overby was administering an enthusiastic beating to his dormitory mate, H.J. Traynor. Werewolves didn't have superhuman strength, despite myths to the contrary, but most--including Neil--developed greater than average strength just by adapting to the grueling monthly transformation. Neil, at the moment, was using that strength to pin H.J.'s arm behind his back while shoving his face over and over into the cobblestones.  
  
Teddy grabbed Neil by the back of his robe and dragged him up, while Donzo dragged H.J. away from the other side. Neil was still uselessly waving his fists. Now that he was disengaged, Teddy noticed that he hand he'd been using to hold H.J. down was clasping an edition of one of the new magazines that had cropped up recently.  
  
"Neil!" Teddy pulled him back. "Quit it, will you? What's the matter with you?"  
  
Neil waved the paper at him. "He was bragging! Bragging that his mother wrote _this_!"  
  
Teddy took the magazine, which Neil had opened to an opinion piece. It was called "Sew What?" and subtitled, "Why the Needle's Eye Will Change Us All (For the Better!) In The End."

There was no time to read the article. Teddy had barely scanned the byline when Donzo yelled, "Someone send for Madam Pomfrey!"  
  
Teddy looked up, then dropped the magazine, binding Neil with a Leg-locker hex without thinking about it.  
  
H.J. had stopped struggling against Donzo--in fact, with a final lunge, he'd spat out a bubble of blood, and then gone limp. He was hanging from Donzo's hands like a heavy robe.  
  
Teddy sent the Patronus to Madam Pomfrey. Luckily, she was in the village, and able to Apparate over. There was confusion and fear while she checked H.J., did some emergency Healing spells, and bound him for a trip straight back to the hospital wing. "And I'm not ruling out St. Mungo's," she said, glaring at Neil. "Teddy, get him to the Headmistress. Now."  
  
Teddy took Neil back to the gate by Side-Along, then released the Leg-locker and went onto the grounds. He pulled Neil along behind him.  
  
"Slow down!" Neil said.  
  
Teddy turned. "What were you thinking?"  
  
"Didn't you see it?"  
  
"There were blood bubbles coming out of your dormitory-mate's mouth, Neil."  
  
Neil glared, and started walking again. Teddy steered him up to the gryphon that guarded the Headmistress's office. She was apparently waiting, because it stepped aside. Teddy pulled Neil up onto the revolving stairs.  
  
Professor Sprout was bent in front of the fireplace, and she stood as Teddy and Neil came in. "Sit down," she said as she turned. She saw Teddy and frowned. "Your own House didn't need its prefects for that? I'm told that the fight involved a good number of Gryffindors."  
  
"I was near Neil, and Madam Pomfrey sent us," Teddy said.  
  
"Very well. Sit, Mr. Overby. Mr. Lupin, you may go--"  
  
"Couldn't he stay?" Neil asked. To Teddy's surprise, he looked rather desperate. "He saw what was happening."  
  
Professor Sprout frowned, but didn't order Teddy out. She continued speaking to Neil. "I've sent for your parents, Mr. Overby."  
  
"No!"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Neil sat back, blinking. "Am I being expelled?"  
  
"It's being considered."  
  
The flames in the fireplace went green, and Nate and Evelyn Blondin--Neil's adoptive parents--spun through. Evvy bit her lip and looked at the fireplace again. The flames came up, and Père Alderman appeared.  
  
"Mrs. Blondin," Professor Sprout said, "I invited you and your husband."  
  
Alderman held out his hand. "Nate and Evvy invited me," he said. "I'm..."  
  
"Alpha," Nate said plainly. "What's the situation?"  
  
Professor Sprout explained what had happened, asking Teddy and Neil for clarification when it was needed. Evvy's face grew whiter, and Nate pressed his lips together so tightly that they nearly disappeared. Alderman simply stayed in the back and listened.  
  
"Will the other boy be all right?" Evvy asked when the story had been told.  
  
Professor Sprout nodded. "Madam Pomfrey was able to Heal his injuries, though we've sent him to St. Mungo's for observation. I'm sure you realize that this is not a minor matter, no matter how well or badly Mr. Traynor comes out of it. There has been more than enough violence at Hogwarts."  
  
"Doesn't anyone care _why_?" Neil asked.  
  
"I care," the Headmistress said. She twirled her wand, and the magazine appeared. "Mr. Overby, I suspect that this sort of thing is particularly hurtful to you, given what happened to you. I'm inclined to take that into consideration, but only if I know that you understand why you're here today. Do you understand?"  
  
"Because I hit H.J."  
  
Sprout looked frustrated.  
  
Evvy leaned forward. "Headmistress, may I?"  
  
"I should hope so, Mrs. Blondin."  
  
Evvy turned her chair so that she was facing Neil. "Neil, do you know why what you did was wrong?"  
  
Neil didn't answer.  
  
Alderman leaned forward. "Neil, your mother asked you a question. Answer it."  
  
"I don't know," Neil said.  
  
Nate stood up and went to the window, then turned. "Neil, you'd best know." He grabbed the magazine and waved it. "This is nothing. This is ink and paper. You're stronger than that boy, and you beat him badly. Who does that sound like to you?"  
  
Neil looked for a moment like he might rebel, then horror dawned on his face. "I'm not--I didn't..."  
  
"Yes, you did," Nate said. "And you need to own that."  
  
Neil looked at his feet. "He murdered Wendell's parents. The Needle's Eye. And now H.J.'s mum is going on about how we're going to be better because of him. I know what he feels like. I remember when Dubois did that after Greyback killed _my_ family. And Traynor's bragging about it."  
  
Professor Sprout rubbed her head. "I do understand, Neil." She looked up. "I should talk to Neil and the Blondins alone. Father Alderman, Teddy... would you terribly mind waiting downstairs?" She indicated the door.  
  
Teddy stood up. On a whim, he pointed at the magazine and asked, "May I?"  
  
"Please," Sprout said. She picked it up and handed it to him, with an expression on her face like she was handling a half-rotted dead fish.  
  
Teddy took it, and he and Alderman went down the stairs together, and sat down on a stone bench.  
  
"How bad is it?" Alderman asked, speaking for the first time since introducing himself.  
  
"I don't know yet," Teddy said, and raised the magazine to read the article that had caused all the commotion. Alderman read over his shoulder.  
  
It was relatively tame, as such things went. She took for granted that naive decisions had been made by boys and girls barely out of Hogwarts--boys and girls who were nearly worshipped after their efforts in the war, and therefore not corrected by their elders--and that those decisions had led to the smoldering resentment presumably felt by Sam Cresswell and other, less murderous, victims of the war. (She somehow neglected to mention that she had named her firstborn son after one of these naive and overpraised children.) The publicity and high profile of the murders was a chance to re-examine those decisions, now that the heat of battle had faded and people felt freer to argue with "even the most famous of the children, Harry Potter--now an adult with children of his own, who may himself now understand the real impact his well-intentioned mistakes had on families who lost everything."  
  
Of Sam Cresswell murders, she said almost nothing. She re-iterated the trauma of Dirk Cresswell's death, mentioned the rumor, rapidly gaining ground, that his older brother had been deliberately locked out of care after his Quidditch injury and would have recovered perfectly well had he been treated in time, and talked about his mother's third pregnancy, which had been ended by Death Eaters at St. Mungo's. These things had left him as the man of the house at the tender age of eight. And so on. Of his brutality with Goyle or Fudge or Runcorn, let alone the Burkes and Borgin, she said nothing. There wasn't even a passing mention of the details of the murders.  
  
At the end of it, Teddy wasn't entirely sure what she was asking for, or how she thought the alleged mistakes ought to be corrected. The whole thing had the unmistakable feel of a scold. Teddy felt slightly nauseated by it. He couldn't put his finger on any one thing, but it all seemed to scream Mrs. Traynor's opinion that anyone who disagreed with her didn't understand what other people had lost. At some point in reading it, he'd wrapped his fist around Dad's wedding ring, and by the time he finished, his hand ached from the tight grip.  
  
Beside him, Alderman sighed. "I don't think she meant harm by it."  
  
"Well, she did harm."  
  
"And she will immediately set on any mercy given to Neil as nothing but a reaction to his tragic circumstances. Ironically, the same sort of excuse she's appearing to give Cresswell. It's astounding how different things seem when it's your own wounds--or worse, the wounds of someone you love--that someone insists on salting."  
  
"But couldn't she see before she wrote it that it would hurt someone like Wendell?"  
  
"No more than Neil could see that she wasn't being deliberately cruel." Alderman grimaced. "I think most of the problems in the world are caused by an utter inability to understand other human beings' perceptions. We treat people we disagree with as though they're inherently wrong, and we, of course, are perfectly right. Every madman in history has assumed that he's right and his enemies are not only wrong, but possibly subhuman. Seems quite a lot of people have forgotten to take large beams out of their own eyes before worrying about motes in anyone else's." He gave a bitter laugh. "How would that be for a homily? Everyone take your Clear-Eye Concoction and stop being an ass."  
  
Teddy wasn't sure what to say to this. Finally, he said, "Why are you here?"  
  
"Nate and Evvy asked me."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because they were afraid that Hogwarts would use Neil's lycanthropy as an excuse to punish him more severely than other students caught doing similar things. I've helped Hermione Weasley with several arguments in front of the Wizengamot, and they wanted to make sure we had all the facts. Unfortunately, the fact is that Neil lost his temper. He needs to learn to control that. You've made a lot of progress there--will you help him?"

"You want _me_ to help someone with his temper? I might not be the best person for that, I blew up a house when I was Neil's age, not to mention... You know. Greyback. And I put the whole school in quarantine and almost killed people with a plague because of my temper a couple of years ago."  
  
"What's your point?"  
  
"Don't you think that would make me a hypocrite?"  
  
Alderman smiled. "Actually, I think it makes you the person in school most likely to understand Neil and keep him out of trouble."  
  
"You don't think they'll expel him?"  
  
"Ginny once told me that they're always threatening to expel people, and never actually do it." He shrugged. "Also, if they do, there'll be more fights, and Sprout knows it."  
  
"I'll do what I can, but I really only see Neil when he comes for his potion."  
  
At this, Alderman looked genuinely surprised. "The way he talks about you, I thought he must be following you around like a puppy. He admires you a lot. Talks about you all the time when he comes home for moons. Well... that would make it more difficult."  
  
A little taken aback, as he'd never seen any indication of great admiration from Neil, Teddy muttered, "I'll do what I can."  
  
They sat quietly together for ten minutes, passing the magazine back and forth (Teddy found himself more exasperated than enraged by it), until Professor Sprout sent for them. Alderman and the Blondins left through the fireplace, and Teddy walked Neil back down to the Great Hall.  
  
"I'm not going to be expelled," Neil said when they'd got about halfway there.  
  
"I'm glad to hear that."  
  
"I have to write an _apology._ "  
  
"I'm glad to hear that, as well."  
  
"You sound like Mum Evvy."  
  
"There are worse people to sound like. What else is there?"  
  
"Detention. A lot of detention," Neil said morosely. "I'm going to be cleaning the barns for Roger and Professor Hagrid until I die."  
  
"You'll live. Ask Roger to introduce you to his animals."  
  
Neil stopped walking. "Teddy... aren't you angry?"  
  
"I'm angry at a lot of things, Neil." Teddy braced himself, and, feeling like something an ass, went on. "But do you know how badly you hurt H.J.?"  
  
Neil looked sullenly at his feet. "He was _bragging_."  
  
"He's an idiot. You already knew that." Teddy sighed. "I killed someone--"  
  
"Greyback!" Neil said. "Greyback killed my parents and lots of other--"  
  
Teddy held up his hand. "I know. But H.J. isn't Greyback, and even if he were... it's not something you want to live with if you don't have to."  
  
Neil started walking again. He didn't say anything, and Teddy didn't observe any special reaction to being scolded by someone he supposedly admired. When they got to the Great Hall, Neil nodded a farewell and went to sit with his Slytherin mates and Celia Dean, who ran over to him from the Gryffindor table as soon as she saw him.  
  
Teddy went over to the Weasley girls, who were eating together quietly, and sat down.  
  
"How's Neil?" Marie asked. "Is he expelled?"  
  
Teddy told them the story.  
  
Victoire said nothing while he was telling it. She picked at her food and looked over a few times. They needed to talk.   
  
Unfortunately, she slipped away from the table before he finished eating, and by the time he got back to the Common Room, she was up in her dormitory. He considered sending a Patronus up to get her to come down, but decided that maybe it would be better to let the business of the date fade a bit. He went upstairs and did his homework, then worked on a few of the ideas James had for their next book. If they were to do something longer, a few of them could be combined. He went to bed early, and lay awake in the dark for what seemed like a long time, listening to Checkmate purr on the pillow beside him. Finally, he found himself in a dream. He was small again, and playing with Victoire on the tree swing at Shell Cottage. They were sitting on the board seat and turning and turning it, twisting the ropes together, and as soon as they were as tight as they could get, Teddy pushed off and sent them spinning into the air. Victoire laughed, and her hair flew around her, catching the sun. He woke up early Sunday morning, feeling melancholy and low.  
  
He wasn't hungry for breakfast, so he worked a little bit on his original potion. He was loath to use the Mallowsweet, for obvious reasons, so he'd switched his project to a Gurdyroot-based repulsion potion, hoping that a little infusion of stinksap would improve on the current potions meant to repel chizzpurfles. Nothing Aunt Ginny had tried had made much of a dent in the chizzpurfle population in Sirius's old room at Grimmauld Place. Neither it nor Regulus's room was easily habitable, which kept the Potters in the lower levels (several magically maintained levels in between had been destroyed by the Death Eaters). Teddy used Sirius's room sometimes, but it was itchy and uncomfortable to do so, which was why he generally shared James's room when he visited. This wasn't going to be the sort of potion that would scream, "Teddy Lupin created this!" but as he wasn't looking for a post as a Potions Master, he supposed it didn't really matter, as long as he passed.  
  
Victoire was waiting in the Common Room when he went down two hours later. She came up to him tentatively. "Er... Teddy?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
She looked around anxiously, and pulled him over to a nook near the Lionbloom. "Teddy, I, er... after yesterday... I mean, are we..." She looked over her shoulder, then went around him to his other side, so she could see the whole room. "Are we going out?"  
  
"Sure. I mean, if you want to."  
  
"Right. Right." She smiled. He leaned in to kiss her, but she drew away with a dismayed look. "My sisters," she hissed. "Not allowed, remember?"  
  
"Oh. Right." He thought about this. "Do you... want to have breakfast?"  
  
"Sorry, I already ate." She nodded to him awkwardly and went away.  
  
He managed to eat lunch with her, but the conversation was as awkward as it had been in Madam Puddifoot's, and she seemed quite relieved when Professor Longbottom asked her to go to the greenhouses and help him with some mandrakes.  
  
"What's that about?" Donzo asked, coming around the table, slipping into her place and starting in on her nearly untouched meal.  
  
"No idea," Teddy said.  
  
"Are you going to Maurice's tonight?"  
  
Teddy nodded. "Every week. Do you have something for him?"  
  
"No." He raised his wand and said, " _Muffliato_ ," then went on. "Just wondered if you'd take your pet raccoon along."  
  
"Because no one would question me taking along a beloved pet that they've never seen before?"  
  
"Good point. Could you fly me to the other side of the wall?"  
  
"I don't know. I'd think some bird Animagus would have found a way to sneak people into Hogwarts before this if it could be done."  
  
"If it doesn't stop an owl with a package--or a thestral with a wizard on his back, if your godfather is to be believed--why would it stop a hawk carrying a raccoon?"  
  
Teddy frowned. "Why are you determined to go?"  
  
"For a friend," Donzo answered.  
  
There was no reason not to at least make the experiment. After lunch, they went up to the Astronomy Tower, checked to make sure no one was watching, and transformed. Teddy made the dive off of the tower and built up some flying speed going in circles, then came back to where Donzo was waiting, patiently cleaning his paws in a cold-looking puddle.  
  
Teddy flexed his talons, then tried to pick him up. He was too heavy.  
  
Donzo transformed back to his human shape and rubbed his shoulders, where a bit of blood was seeping through his shirt. "Ouch," he commented.  
  
Teddy transformed back. "Sorry. Hawks don't really have a particularly gentle way of carrying things."  
  
"Well, you could make me feather-weight before you transform, like you did in Knockturn Alley," Donzo said.  "I don't recall Wendell having any gouges in his shoulders." He snapped back into Mask's shape.  
  
Teddy did the Charm, then changed and went back and circled again. This time, he was able to easily scoop Donzo up, and there was no weight to pull his flesh too hard. He flew for the wall, found no magical resistance at all, and glided down to the ground. He set Donzo on the road. Donzo became human again.  
  
"Perfectly easy," he said. "I'll see you in London."  
  
Teddy didn't bother to go back and forth. He remained in hawk form, nodded to Donzo, and took off, back to the castle. An hour later, he went to the Headmistress's office, greeted her with a nod, and left through her fireplace.  
  
There was no Floo particularly convenient to Maurice's flat, so they'd got in the habit of meeting at the shop even if they weren't planning to stay. Teddy was surprised when he spun out into the main showroom to find it empty.  
  
"Maurice?" he called.  
  
No answer.  
  
"Great," he muttered. "Perfect."  
  
He left the shop and headed to Maurice's flat, thinking that Donzo must have gone there first, and the pair of them had lost track of time in one of their long conversations. He rang the bell, but there was no answer.  
  
Concerned, Teddy opened the front door of the building and stepped into the dingy corridor.   
  
The Burke flat was one of four above a used book shop, and there was nothing strange about seeing books there--in fact, Teddy suspected that the proprietor used at least one of the flats to store books he couldn't sell--but the light coming from a single, high-up torch was catching on something new and shiny. Teddy walked up to it, alert for any changes. This wasn't a time he was happy to see _anything_ out of place in Knockturn Alley.  
  
The slight apprehension turned to confusion when he saw what the book was-- _Martian's Mistake_. It was the first time he'd seen it outside of the planning stages. Had Maurice got an early copy from Frankie? And then left it out in the corridor for some reason?  
  
Teddy picked it up tentatively. It seemed strange to hold it in his hands. The cover was shiny and blue, and it showed Martian--the artist's version--looking cheekily over his shoulder as he headed into a leafy tunnel. On the back was the fictional biography of Jim Wolf. Teddy shook his head and started to put the book down again.  
  
The light caught the edge of the pages as he moved it. There was something stuck inside.  
  
Curious, he opened it.  
  
As soon as the cover was lifted, the corridor filled with bright, golden light, and from the top of the stairs, someone called down, "Surprise!"


	18. By the Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy's friends in London give him a surprise party for the book he and James have just had published, and at it, Ruthless shares an idea--Teddy could morph into a well-known Death Eater to try and draw Sam out. Harry is less than thrilled with the plan.

Someone must have put up some rather high quality temporary expansion spells in the Burke flat, because everyone Teddy knew outside of Hogwarts--at least everyone that he cared to see--seemed to be there. James, of course, was at the center of things, reading the book aloud to his various gathered cousins, one of whom had made him a headdress that looked like one Martian acquired when he slipped through a rabbit hole into a fabulous garden kingdom. (Martian himself had also been granted a headdress, but it was already mostly in shreds.)  
  
Lily egged James on with a stream of insults, and Al watched indulgently from the back of a sofa. Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny, Ron and Hermione, and every Weasley sibling (including the elusive Charlie) were there, as well as Molly and Arthur. Granny descended on Teddy as soon as he arrived, and was plying him with various bits of food. Ruthless and Frankie and Donzo had apparently been recruited by Maurice, who'd decided on a whim to do it when he'd noticed James pressing his nose against the window at Flourish and Blotts, looking at a poster for the upcoming book. Maddie and Daffy were there, and Croaker from the Department, and Hannah Longbottom (who was very, very pregnant), and Alderman and the Blondins and Vivian, and...  
  
Teddy squeezed his eyes shut and re-opened them. Everyone was still here. Even Fifi LaFolle was floating about, with Lavender Brown in attendance on her. Uncle Harry had even brought his portrait, so Dad and Sirius and James were presiding from the wall. The only one missing was Mum, who was stuck in Teddy's portrait at Hogwarts.  
  
"We're all quite impressed," Dad said. "Your mother wishes we could have thought of a way to sneak her out of the castle."  
  
"I'll tell her all about it," Teddy said. "And I'll read you both the book."  
  
Sirius grinned. "That's somehow appropriate."  
  
Granny rolled her eyes. "It suppose it _was_ inevitable."  
  
"Teddy!" Uncle Harry was weaving through the crowd, two drinks floating in front of him. He reached them. "We're all a bit impressed." He handed over one of the drinks. "James has been counting down to tomorrow. We've cleared a whole shelf for all of the books the pair of you are going to write."  
  
"Only one?" Granny asked. "Have you heard all the ideas James spins? And I know how fast Teddy writes."  
  
Teddy blushed. "Well, let's see if the first one does anything first."  
  
"Frankie said that the bookshops have been picking it up," Granny said.  
  
"Yes, but customers have to pick it up from the shops, if there are going to be more."  
  
"It'll be big hit," Donzo said, coming over. "I'm already writing songs to go with it. Shall I sing one?"  
  
"Will Maurice let you?"  
  
"Well, it would break James's heart if I didn't, since I promised..."  
  
Teddy laughed, and a moment later, Donzo asked James's permission to take the spot by the couch he'd been reading from, and let James give him a grand introduction. Teddy drifted over into the group of his friends from school.  
  
"He's got to stop doing this," Maurice said, in a good-natured way that didn't suggest any imminent scold for it, as Donzo launched into an absurd, guitar-heavy ballad about Martian and his quest for the charm. Maurice watched this fondly, and cheered it afterward. He looked better than he had since December, though Teddy could still see the weary lines around his eyes.  
  
The evening went by quickly, in images and moments. At one point, Victoire's youngest brother, Lance (who would be four in June), expressed grave concern about how Martian had learned not to get stuck in the pricker-bushes, and Teddy and James made up an impromptu story to explain it. At another, Uncle Harry, mimicking a Diagon Alley tourist, wandered around with the book, asking if anyone could tell him where to get an autograph. Teddy and James signed it together, with James writing "Jim" and Teddy writing "Wolf." Granny drank quite a bit, but didn't get maudlin, and danced wildly with Ellsworth to the amusement of everyone. Rosie Weasley very somberly told Teddy that writing books was the very most important thing in the world. Toward the end of the evening, when the first of the Weasley siblings (Percy) announced that it was time to go, James gathered everyone and swore them to utmost secrecy about who Jim Wolf really was. "Can we make it Unbreakable Vow?" he asked, and got a very fast "No" from every adult in the room.  
  
By ten-thirty, it was only Granny, the Potters, Donzo, Maurice, Ruthless, and Frankie. Lily had fallen asleep, and Al looked close to it, but James was running about like it was noon.  
  
"The next one," he told Frankie, "is going to be a _real_ book, with chapters. It'll be about them." He pointed to the picture of the Marauders, who made a great show of being flustered with embarrassment.  
  
"I don't know about real people..."  
  
"Oh, we're changing their names!" James said, appalled that anyone wouldn't have thought of that. "And they'll be in school again, and they'll never, ever die, no matter what adventures they have."  
  
Frankie looked at Teddy. "Does that sound right to you?"  
  
"Sounds great, but shouldn't we see if this one is going to sell?"  
  
Frankie waved this off. "It's already our first big hit, and Jim Wolf hasn't done a single publicity appearance. Which, by the way... we should have a picture for the next book."  
  
"But Jim Wolf isn't real," Al muttered sleepily.  
  
"He doesn't need to be!" James pointed at Teddy. "Come on, make Jim Wolf. He should look like both of us, but neither one of us."  
  
Teddy made a great show of studying James's face, then morphed his eyes to match James's hazel ones. James's mouth didn't look yet like it would on an adult, so he left his own. "What color hair?" he asked. "We have the same normal color, but so far, I look like me with an eye-color morph."  
  
"Do Sirius's hair."  
  
Teddy looked up, amused. Uncle Harry, who had obviously been celebrating freely, was grinning. He had not, in Teddy's memory, ever asked for a morph.  
  
"All right," he said, and thickened his hair, giving himself a roguish thick fringe that wouldn't have looked out of place in one of Donzo's concerts. He made it black and sleek.  
  
"Gentlemen," he said, addressing the portrait, "I give you Jim Wolf." He twirled his wand, and a mirror appeared.  
  
Teddy saw why he'd suggested Sirius--between James's hazel eyes, which he'd got from his grandfather, and his own mouth, which he'd inherited from Dad, and the shock of Sirius's hair, he looked like he'd combined the three of them into a single face. He tipped an imaginary hat to them, and morphed back.  
  
He sat down on one of the Conjured sofas and said, "Thanks for this, Maurice. But, er... if we're going to get to your tutoring before tomorrow morning..."  
  
Maurice dismissed this. "Portrait's been here all day to help me with Defense"--James the elder and Sirius gave sarcastic claps in Dad's direction--"and Donzo brought my homework for the others. Why do you think I told him to get off the grounds early? Take the night off."  
  
"I wish you could come to Flourish and Blotts with me tomorrow," James said. "I'm going to buy the first copy."  
  
Frankie shook his head. "James, you have ten author copies. You, do, too, Teddy," he added, "but I thought it would be hard for you to explain them coming with owl post."  
  
James frowned. "It's different, buying one in a shop. I wonder if they're being put out yet."  
  
"Probably," Frankie said. "It's not going to be big display, but I got them to at least set up a display at the end of an aisle."  
  
"Maybe we can see it through the front window!" James suggested, bounding up.  
  
Teddy was about to join him--the idea of actually seeing _Martian's Mistake_ displayed at Flourish and Blotts was strangely appealing--but Ruthless shook her head. "No. They haven't fixed it yet."  
  
"Fixed it?" Donzo asked.  
  
Maurice looked stunned. "Flourish and Blotts? Why Flourish and Blotts?"  
  
"Who knows?" Ruthless said. She looked at Teddy and Donzo. "We've been seeing a lot of very stupid bits of vandalism. Nothing threatening."  
  
Teddy turned to Maurice. "Your shop?"  
  
"Is well-protected," he said cryptically. "But there've been a handful of rubbish fires in Knockturn Alley."  
  
"You don't think it's...?" Teddy started.  
  
"No," Uncle Harry said. "I don't think he's turned to petty property damage. I don't know what we'll hear from him next, but these are just--"  
  
"Idiots," Ruthless said. "Annoying, but harmless. We're catching them, they're screaming a few things about getting the establishment back for all the damage, and then we release them into the wild after they pay a fine."  
  
"But--"  
  
Granny held up her hand. "Teddy, I did as much when I was protesting Crouch."  
  
"You don't think Cresswell's behind it, then?"  
  
Uncle Harry shook his head wearily. "I wish it were. It'd give me a hint of where he's got to, and I don't like not knowing that. But this isn't him. Or those..." He ground his teeth.  
  
Aunt Ginny rolled her eyes in frustration. "Harry, no. No Cresswell talk. You promised."  
  
"I did," he agreed.  
  
"I hope you catch him soon," James said.  
  
"So you can get your holiday?" Ruthless asked.  
  
James turned up his nose. "That's for Lily. After the Needle's Eye is caught," he explained to Teddy, "Mum and Dad are taking us on holiday to the Cloaked Islands, after her Bermuda story. There's a Neddy the Kneazle park. Lily wants to go." He shrugged. "There are beaches, too, and I get to speak French, so I'm practicing with Aunt Fleur."  
  
"That sounds fun."  
  
"We could wait until after school, and you could come with us," Aunt Ginny offered.  
  
"Oh, I... well, I think I may have outgrown Neddy the Kneazle at some point."  
  
She smiled.  
  
"Anyway," Donzo said, "I was thinking that we could go on one of those trips they used to take. You know--go see the world. You, me, this loser"--he pointed to Maurice--"maybe Atkinson..."  
  
"We do that every summer."  
  
"Only when I have someplace to sing. I was thinking of an actual holiday before any of us start this adult business."  
  
"Too late," Maurice said, then sighed. "Sorry. But, the shop."  
  
"I'll watch the shop for you," Granny offered. "I'll have fully retired by then, I think."  
  
Maurice looked like he didn't quite dare to believe her.  
  
The conversation went on for a long time, until after eleven, when even James was starting to flag. The expansion charms started to break, and the flat was feeling crowded.  
  
Ruthless was the first to stand up. "I think I'll go home now. Get some sleep. I'm sure that tomorrow, there'll be some nefarious sign-defacer to catch." She stretched extravagantly, then Summoned her Cloak. "Hey, Lupin... walk me home? There's something I want to talk to you about."

Teddy smiled and got his cloak.  "I'll come back before I go to Hogwarts," he said at the door, looking over his shoulder at his other friends.  
  
"We should go anyway," Aunt Ginny said, picking up her sleeping daughter. "It's a bit late."  
  
"Well, I'll still say goodbye to Maurice and Frankie..."  
  
"Goodnight," Maurice said. "See you next week."  
  
"I'll write to you about sales," Frankie said. "Going home, too."  
  
"And I'm headed back to Hogsmeade," Donzo said. "Come by the Three Broomsticks. We'll walk back together."  
  
Granny got a mischievous look in her eyes and looked at Ruthless and said, "Well, I think I ought to call it a night as well. I'll see you at Easter!"  
  
Uncle Harry narrowed his eyes. "Ruth?"  
  
Ruthless shrugged. "We're walking and talking, Harry."  
  
Teddy studied Uncle Harry's face, which was narrow with some kind of suspicion. "What?"  
  
"He's probably worried that I'm going to seduce you," Ruthless said.  
  
"I'm going out with someone," Teddy told them both.  
  
"I don't really care about that," Uncle Harry said. "Ruth...?"  
  
She met his troubled stare, then hooked her arm cheerfully through Teddy's and said, "Come on, Lupin. I can probably destroy your reputation before we get two streets these days."  
  
Teddy let her lead him outside. "What is this really about?" he asked when they reached the street. "You don't really mean to--"  
  
"Well, I could. At this point, it wouldn't make much difference, would it?" She smiled bitterly, then said, "No. Everything that was true in April is still true."  
  
"Not really," Teddy told her.  
  
Ruth stopped walking, and turned on him with her jaw set angrily. "Oh, you think now I just wouldn't care as much because I've--"  
  
"No! I just meant that you were worried about Victoire then, and... well... it's Victoire I'm going out with--don't tell anyone, she's not allowed--and it's not working _at all_."  
  
"How long?"  
  
"Since yesterday."  
  
"Ah. Yes, I can see why you're ready to give it all up." She gave him a more genuine, if sadder, smile. "Sorry it's not working right now. But it will. And I'd rather not have to give you up again, if you don't mind. It stings a bit, and I tend to do very stupid things after."  
  
Teddy wasn't sure what to say to this. "Er, then..."  
  
"Let me work my way up to it," she said, and started walking again. She looked up at the sky. "I can't see the stars very well in London," she said. "I'm homesick sometimes. I always thought it was maudlin when my grandfather went on about the Highlands. Sounded like something out of a Fifi romance. I couldn't wait to leave, really. Did I tell you that?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Mm. Maybe I just thought it to myself. I'd come to London, and I'd live in a flat, and I'd be a city girl, and I'd never wear the bloody clan tartan. But here I am, and I just want to be walking up the mountain and looking at the stars and those damnable scrubby pines no one can kill. It took me a while to notice that."  
  
"So go home. Apparate to work."  
  
"I want my own place. Can't afford one that's not a rental, and there aren't a lot of flats up there." She shrugged. "The point is, I was really trying to change myself in the autumn. Be this other person. London girl. _Grown-up_ London girl. Sam played on that."  
  
" _Preyed_ on it," Teddy muttered.  
  
Ruthless nodded and sighed. "That's about right, I suppose. But I've been realizing something lately. He made one mistake. He thought I was stupid. I may be a fool, but I'm nowhere close to stupid."  
  
"Of course not!"  
  
"So he talked a lot. I thought he was just trying to impress me, going on about all the people he was going to bring to justice, but now that I know what he was doing, I'm going back over those talks. Runcorn, he didn't hide much, and he wasn't much better about Fudge. When we found Goyle--or when I found him, I guess Sam knew where he was all along--he didn't bother with much respect, and he told me about how Goyle had deliberately lobbed a Bludger at his brother's head. His brother was a second year at the time, and he was so excited to be on the Quidditch team. He wouldn't listen to anyone, even after their dad disappeared. And then it happened. Sam ended up head of his house--his mother was shell-shocked--when he was nine, and he blamed Goyle for that."  
  
"I've read some of this," Teddy said tentatively.  
  
"Yes, I'm sure. In articles that sound just like he did when he was trying to get in my... good graces. But the point is, he told me all of it. He's made it through most of them that he mentioned to me. But there was one that was really under his skin all the time, even more than Runcorn. One who never did anything to him personally, but he saw him as the worst of the lot, the one who should've had his comeuppance in the Great Hall the day of the battle, and possibly should have been hanged from the Astronomy Tower and left there to turn into a mummy."  
  
"Draco Malfoy."  
  
She smirked. "Close, but not quite. He hated Draco like poison, but the one he really loathed was--"  
  
"Lucius," Teddy guessed.  
  
"Lucius," Ruthless agreed. "And they must know it, because he hasn't been out in public since this started."  
  
"He's ill," Teddy told her. "Not physically, but... I saw him last summer. He's not right."  
  
"Oh. Well, that explains it. The Malfoys have been covering it up pretty well." She wrinkled her nose. "I'd rather not sympathize with Draco. But with Granddad... well, I know what he's going through, I suppose, and I'd guess that's why he didn't want to do this."  
  
"Do... what?"  
  
"Well, if I'd known he was sick, I wouldn't have asked, but I thought maybe we could get Lucius out, dangle him in front of Sam, but have a team of Aurors watching. catch him before he could do anything. I don't think he could resist the temptation."  
  
"That would be dangerous."  
  
"Not if the wizard was all there"--she pointed to her head--"and made sure he alerted us. I even have a way to do it that Sam didn't know about and wouldn't see." She shrugged. "It's moot, though, if Lucius wasn't right to begin with. And it was moot anyway. Draco wouldn't let us in to talk to him."  
  
"Us?"  
  
"Ron and me. Harry was a little ambivalent from the start."  
  
"I believe that."  
  
"He said that Sam was a good Auror, and no more stupid than I am, and he might find a way around an alert."  
  
"It's possible."  
  
"But a wizard who knew the situation, who could take care of himself--"  
  
"Which doesn't include Lucius Malfoy."  
  
"Right." They reached her building, and she stopped. "Teddy, I _know_ we can't use Lucius. What you just told me tells me _why_ , but there was never a chance, once Draco--and Narcissa, I'd guess--said no. No one gets into Malfoy Manor without going through them."  
  
"So, why is Uncle Harry still suspicious?"  
  
"Because she didn't leave with Lucius," someone said from the shadows. Teddy turned in time to see Uncle Harry emerging from the alley that led to the Leaky Cauldron. He raised his wand and cast a Muffling Charm. "She left with my godson. The Metamorphmagus."  
  
Teddy put his hand to his forehead. "Of course! I could morph. I'd have to go see Uncle Lucius, make sure I got it right, and probably leave from Malfoy Manor, so that no one would question it, but I could do it. I can fight him long enough for you to get to me, and if not, I have another way to escape. That's brilliant. Ruthless, would Cresswell think of it?"  
  
"Not a chance. He barely remembered your name--he just called you my 'schoolboy'--let alone what you could do."  
  
"When do you want to try it? And why didn't I think of it?"  
  
"Because you're a civilian," Uncle Harry said. "And Ruth knows that."  
  
"Shouldn't it be my decision?"  
  
"I'm head of the Auror Division. It's my call."  
  
"And if I were some other Metamorphmagus?"  
  
"You _aren't_."  
  
"No, I'm not. I'm not a stranger off the street. You've been trying to recruit me to the Division since I was thirteen."  
  
Uncle Harry frowned, then shook his head. "I knew that would turn on me someday." He turned to Ruthless. "Scrimgeour, can we talk upstairs?" He pointed to her window.  
  
She nodded. "Sorry I sneaked it in behind your back."  
  
"You're not quite that sneaky, Ruth. You were right in front of me, and I know you and Burke had been cooking up something."  
  
"Ah. Clever deduction. Ever think of law enforcement?" She smiled.  
  
Uncle Harry didn't return it. He just looked at Teddy with grave misgivings, then let Ruthless lead the way upstairs.

It took her quite a long time to undo the security charms on her flat, and Teddy could see Uncle Harry fidgeting uncomfortably while she did it. No one said anything until she'd finally got the door open and invited them inside.  
  
"I'll get some tea going," she said, waving her wand at the table in the corner. The table's leaves came up, and three chairs scooted over from elsewhere in the living room. Teddy took one; Uncle Harry sat down across from him. Ruthless got her tea set started and took the third seat.  
  
Uncle Harry waited for his cup to come to him--Teddy noted that Ruthless had memorized how he took tea at some point this year--then said, "I think we should use a Polyjuiced Auror, if we do this. I'll go. I think Draco would let me have a bit of Lucius's hair, or a few fingernails."  
  
"Sam would see through that in less than a second," Ruthless said. "He was trained after you were in the Division. Are you telling me he didn't get the same training I did about recognizing Polyjuiced wizards?"  
  
"Well..."  
  
She shook her head. "Ron tested me twice a week until I never missed one. And he said that was _your_ order, so whoever trained Sam--"  
  
"Goldstein."  
  
"--knows to look for any tiny tics in the movement--"  
  
"I know Lucius quite well enough to play the part."  
  
"--any discomfort in his surroundings--"  
  
"I know all the places."  
  
"--and the rarer ingredients going missing from supply shops--"  
  
"There are people I could get any of the ingredients from without leaving a trace."  
  
"--and most important, any suspicious pattern of drinking at regular intervals from containers you can't see through. Unless you've suddenly got a lot better at Potions and altered Polyjuice so it lasts indefinitely, you can't beat that one. Teddy can."  
  
"And you know I can handle myself in a crisis," Teddy said. "I'm not going to panic."  
  
"I don't like it." He looked to Teddy. "Do you know exactly what she means for you to do?"  
  
"We hadn't got to that yet," Teddy reminded him. "But I'm guessing there would be a lot of skulking around in Knockturn Alley. Maybe letting one of Rita's gossip reporters snap a picture of me, getting her to print a story about how Lucius is out and about again."  
  
"Oh, she'd print that if she got even a tiny whiff," Ruthless said. "I hadn't thought of that, but that's good. She wouldn't be able to resist."  
  
Teddy nodded. "And eventually, start spending time alone in places that would be attractive to a murderer, and hope he comes after me. When he does, we use whatever Ruthless has in mind to call the Aurors, and you come and get him."  
  
"It can't be a Patronus. He'd see it, then kill you and run." Ruthless Summoned over a stack of papers covered in her handwriting. "So I've been working with Maurice on a way to do this."  
  
Uncle Harry took the sheet of paper she'd finally come to and looked it over. "This is good spellwork, Scrimgeour."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Not good enough to risk a civilian. I imagine this works like the coins?"  
  
"Same principle, but it would be hidden as part of whatever Teddy's wearing--button, pocket watch, something like that. And instead of hoping that someone would notice a coin getting hot, it will set of a banshee-screech at Headquarters. The button or pocket watch will keep track of where Teddy is, we Apparate in, and we've got the bastard."  
  
"And if Sam senses that there might be a trap, and uses a Deadening Hex to shut down magical detection? Which, for all we know, he did at the other murders?" Uncle Harry pushed the paper back. "I seem to recall that you both had training in _that_ as well."  
  
"A what?" Teddy asked.  
  
"Flitwick created it during the clean-up," Uncle Harry explained. "It's a bit hard to sneak up on fugitive Death Eaters if they're paranoid enough to have detectors around, which quite a few of them were. A Disillusioning spell isn't very helpful if the detector is picking up the magic itself."  
  
"So, if no one seems to be coming, I'll get away," Teddy said, and transformed into a hawk. He pushed off from his chair and flew to Ruthless's curtain rod.  
  
Ruthless laughed and said, "I need to get a bust of Pallas above the door."  
  
Teddy glided back down and changed back. "That's a raven, not a hawk. Hawks can say 'Nevermore' from the curtain rod."  
  
"I could have cursed you three times while you were showing off," Uncle Harry said, unimpressed.  
  
"If I were in an alley with Cresswell, I'd head upward, and give his face a clawing so he couldn't see me clearly."  
  
"And what about school? I assure you, your grandmother won't give you permission to leave school for this, and I don't think you'll set her an ultimatum about being of age."  
  
"I'll start the morphs on Sundays, and on Easter hols, we'll push it all the time. Maurice can leak that Lucius means to sell him something then."  
  
Uncle Harry sat back, staring stubbornly at his teacup.  
  
Teddy frowned. "Ruthless, could you give us a minute?"  
  
She nodded, and disappeared into her bedroom.  
  
Teddy took a deep breath. "Uncle Harry?"  
  
"I want you to stop thinking about this."  
  
"Your seventh year--"  
  
"Do you think I want you to have to do anything _like_ that? Your parents wanted to make sure you wouldn't."  
  
"And if they were here, I'm sure I'd be having the same argument with them. Though I expect Mum would do better on her part of it than you are, as she'd have been able to volunteer herself for it instead. And we both know that she would have." Teddy sighed. "And I'd have told her I should still do it, because Cresswell doesn't know I'm an Animagus."  
  
"And she'd tell you that that little fact would be enough for her to detain you, as an Auror, if she decided to stop looking the other way." Uncle Harry shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. Forget I said that."  
  
"It's fair. I'm going to write to McGonagall and get her to train me, so I can get my papers, so you're not stuck with that. Until then, it's fair. But it's still useful. I could get away from him before he even processed what was happening."  
  
Uncle Harry stood up, put his hands in his hair, and stared out of Ruthless's window at the dingy street. "I don't like this," he said.  
  
"I know."  
  
"And don't tell me--this is where you say that either I give you permission, and you do this with the support of the entire Division, or you do it on your own and hope Burke can get time off from the shop to help you."  
  
"No," Teddy said. "I'm not going to say that. Or do that. It's your Division and your call."  
  
"And if I say no?"  
  
"Then I guess we'll hope he leaves a clue before he kills anyone else."  
  
Uncle Harry sighed and came back to the table. "Teddy, Ruth just told you about this. You're still in love with the idea. I want you to think about it. _Really_ think about it. Give it a week. If you still don't think it's utterly mad... I'll put together the operation. And I'll find a way to be right there with you. I won't be paying attention to anything else this time."  
  
"I want--"  
  
"A week, Teddy. Give it a week. Don't talk about it until then--with me, or with Ruth."  
  
Reluctantly--he would have liked to settle the matter--Teddy agreed to this, then they called Ruthless out and explained the situation. She grudgingly accepted it.  
  
Uncle Harry left a few minutes later. Ruthless looked at Teddy quizzically.  
  
"I'm going to keep my promise," he said.  
  
"I know."  
  
"So I can't tell you what I'm thinking."  
  
She gave him an exaggerated sigh, then sprawled out luxuriously on her sofa and said, "In that case, we'll have to chat about something else. Tell me about the horrible, calamitous, unheard-of-in-the-history-of-the-word disaster that's befallen your social life."  
  
Teddy made a face. "Can't we just talk about debilitating Curses and deathly poisons instead?"  
  
She laughed lightly, and Teddy told her everything.  
  
He got back to Hogwarts quite late after picking up Donzo in Hogsmeade, and Roger Young came to the gate to let them in. He raised his eyebrow at Donzo, who wasn't meant to be out--neither he nor Teddy had wanted to bother with the ruse of going over the wall--but ultimately just shrugged and let them in. ("The pair of you are lucky that Professor Hagrid said that, as long as he had an apprentice, he might as well go to sleep early.")  
  
Donzo had homework to finish, so they decided not to go off in Animagus form and trick Roger into thinking he'd misplaced the key, and they parted ways on the seventh floor.  
  
He got back to Gryffindor Tower after most people had gone to bed, though Victoire was waiting up for him--unfortunately, with Marie. She smiled and gave him a helpless shrug. He talked to the pair of them about the party, which they'd known about, for a few minutes, then went upstairs.  
  
Mum was in the portrait, wearing a festive headdress she'd found in one painting or another. As soon as he came in, she blew a noisemaker. Beside her, Dad and Sirius threw painted confetti.  
  
Teddy laughed. "All right," he said. "Do you want to hear the book?"  
  
They all clapped sarcastically. Teddy pulled a chair up, facing them, and opened _Martian's Mistake_.  
  
"Teddy?"  
  
"Yes, Mum?"  
  
"Turn around, so we can see the pictures over your shoulder."  
  
He turned the chair around, and read them the adventures of Martian, the brave and adventurous cat who became the hero of the garden realm as he searched for his lost treasure. They all applauded, and he turned to give them a bow.  
  
"Brilliant," Mum said. "Remus, we created a genius here."  
  
"I could have done better pictures," Dad said.  
  
"I _wish_ you could have," Teddy told him. He put the book down. "There's something I want to talk to the three of you about..."


	19. Shapeshifter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is more to consider than a possible assignment for Uncle Harry--Teddy discovers that his grades have been slipping and his friendship with Victoire is jeopardized by their unsuccessful attempt at dating. Still, he ponders the question and decides to do it, necessitating a meeting with the odious Lucius Malfoy.

After nearly two years with the portrait, Teddy really hadn't needed to ask it for advice. It didn't contain the spirits of his parents and Sirius, just a bit of their essence, and people's strongest memories of them. As a result, he could have said before asking that Sirius would express great enthusiasm, perhaps embellishing the plan, and Dad would advise caution while acknowledging its merits. Mum was a wild card--either she would be with Sirius, or she would be fiercely protective of Teddy. In this case, she took the latter route, though in the end, the attraction of using his talents as a Metamorphmagus won her over. None of this was a surprise, and, while Teddy found it comforting that he knew them well enough to predict their responses, he didn't feel that he'd got any real insight out of it. Still, it felt good to be able to thrash it out with them sometimes, so he was glad that Mum had at least argued.  
  
He met Victoire for breakfast the next morning. She told him that she was going to Herbology, which she enjoyed, and he told her he was headed to Divination, which was quite important to his career. They stared at their flatware for the rest of the meal, and smiled at one another as they headed off to class.  
  
Teddy and Laura Chapman were the only seventh year N.E.W.T. students in Divination, and they'd worked with both professors during the course of the year (though technically, Trelawney was their advisor in the subject, since Firenze refused to teach certain N.E.W.T. subjects). Today, they were in Trelawney's tower, and they both arrived before she did. Laura had set up her crystal ball, and Teddy sat down across from her.  
  
"Cross my palm with silver," she said airily, "and I'll tell your fate."  
  
Teddy grinned. "Don't say that in front of Firenze. He won't let you take your N.E.W.T."  
  
She laughed, and passed her hand over the crystal a few times. It glowed a cheerful lemon yellow. "Seriously, Teddy, I have to See something, or Trelawney will have my head. Did you get anything?"  
  
"I haven't even tried."  
  
"I could do with a question."  
  
Teddy thought about it. "What would happen if I involved myself in the hunt for Cresswell? Ask me one, as well."  
  
"Mm." Laura considered this. "All right, I'll look for yours. You tell me... I don't know what I want to know. Standard--what's coming, any dark strangers on the horizon, and so on."  
  
"Deal," Teddy said, and began to scry. He didn't know Laura as well as he ought, given that they'd gone out for three months in fourth year, but he knew her well enough to ask a general sort of question. Looking into the cool gray mist of his crystal ball--the one he'd brought out of the Daedalus Maze with him--he could see flashes of a world that she was in. There she was in a small flat in the city, and here with a child. There was a tall, thin man who Teddy almost recognized, but crystal-scrying was notoriously unreliable on particular identifications... the mind would take the slightest familiarity and imagine it to a certainty. That said, the man was familiar to Frankie's friend Zach Templeton, with whom Laura had no association whatsoever, other than both being part of Hufflepuff House. He saw her standing alone on a flagstone plaza looking out at a sunset with her camera in hand.  
  
He shrugged and came up from it. "Well, you're going to be fine, I think, you--Laura?" He stopped, realizing that she'd gone white as she looked into her crystal. "Laura! Come out!" He clapped his hands in front of her face.  
  
She sat back, blinking. "Teddy..."  
  
"Am I in some sort of trouble?" he prodded.  
  
She shook her head. "No, no not you. I just... I started looking and I didn't see anything specific, but Teddy... I don't think Cresswell's alone anymore. I see shadows around him. Nothing clear, but they're there."  
  
"Are you...?" Teddy frowned. "Laura, could they just be the people who are supporting him, like the ones writing letters to the _Prophet_?"  
  
"They could be. I'm not as good at this as you are."  
  
"You're perfectly fine at it," Teddy said, distracted.  
  
The trapdoor opened, and Professor Trelawney came up. Laura raised an eyebrow at Teddy, and he shook his head minutely. Trelawney would just say it was a death omen.  
  
"My Inner Eye tells me that neither of you has been vigilant in your assignments," she said. "Is your vision clouded?"  
  
"No," Teddy said quickly.  
  
"Then there is, perhaps, another reason behind your clouded performance in this class?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Mr. Lupin, Miss Chapman, your latest essays leave something to be desired..."  
  
With this, the subject of actual visions ended, and Trelawney launched into a vague, twenty-minute scold about the low quality of their assigned work. Laura, who didn't plan to do anything with her Divination N.E.W.T. was given a soft reprimand, but Teddy was reminded that this, of all classes was one his potential employers would be watching. "This _is_ your gift," she said tersely. "You See clearly, and you See well, but this year, you've Seen nearly nothing, and understood less."  
  
Teddy took it as well he could. She was right; he'd been paying less and less attention to his school work all year, and it already seemed like something unreal. Stephens wasn't entirely thrilled with his work in Potions, either, and his marks in Charms had fallen to average. Even in Defense Against the Dark Arts, he hadn't been engaged since the subject had shifted away from the murders.  
  
"Well, you have been a bit drawn into it," Donzo said at lunch when Teddy brought up the subject. He smiled. "Remember, Maurice said you would, back in Colorado--he said you ought to put up a sign or some such thing, saying that you were busy because you'd got too drawn into something."  
  
Teddy blinked. The trip to the States seemed like an ancient story of some long gone boy, but when Donzo said that, the image of the dusty little shop in Alamosa came back to him--the worry that Granny would be accused, the knowledge that Uncle Harry would be in the midst of it. The idea that Ruthless would be even closer hadn't occurred to him, of course, and the idea that Maurice would lose the most of all would have been alien to all of them. He suddenly wished he'd stayed that morning, gone on to Denver for the concert, followed them along to Idaho and California, met the girl Kelly Sweet in San Francisco with them...  
  
"Lupin?"  
  
He shook his head. "Never mind."  
  
Donzo rolled his eyes and started salting his meal.  
  
Corky ambled over ten minutes later and sat down with them at the Ravenclaw table. No one had thought twice about this sort of thing with their year until recently, but the first and second years always seemed scandalized now. Corky waved cheerfully to an offended first year, then started picking food off of Teddy's plate. He raised his hand over toward the Slytherin table, and a moment later, Honoria came over. She sat down beside Teddy, across from Corky.  
  
"Are we having a prefects' meeting?"  
  
"Just lunch," Donzo said. "I saw you interviewing Geoff earlier. Did you have fun?"  
  
"It was an interesting new experience," she said primly.  
  
"Ah. I remember when it seemed that way. I think that wore off sometime before the first day of classes first year."  
  
She smiled. "I can see where it might be a bit trying to live with. But really, I was glad to get to know him. I think I'm talking to Lizzie Richardson next, then Frank Driscoll. I'll round it out with Connie, and then we'll be done with Ravenclaw, and I'm on to the rest of Slytherin." She picked at her food. "I'm glad I did Maurice early. You know... before. I'm glad his parents got to see it. How is he?"  
  
"Doing better than I am in his classes," Teddy said morosely. "And that's off the record."  
  
"Who'd care?" Honoria asked.  
  
After lunch, Teddy made an effort to go to the library and do a little bit of extra credit work for Divination and Potions. Stephens had told him that he could choose any other legal potion ingredient to replace the now-banned Mallowsweet, so he went looking for something obscure that might interact on some level with his apprenticeship and future career. He finally chose laurel root, which had typically been used to understand oracular speech, thinking he could create a Stabilizing Solution that could be mixed into a candle, the scent of which could keep a Seer grounded during the course of a vision. In class, Stephens approved of this.  
  
He saw Victoire at dinner when he came up from the dungeons, but as soon as he sat down, she looked at her half-full plate and murmured something about not being able to eat another bite and ducked away. Teddy ate with a very confused Marie and Aimee instead.  
  
Over the remainder of the week, Teddy did his best to close in on his delinquent school work, but the case kept on in his mind. He wanted it over. He wanted to get back to his seventh year and as far from Cresswell as he could. But the only way to do that was to get closer to him first. On Sunday, he sent a message to Uncle Harry, saying that he meant to go through with Ruthless's plan. He half expected Uncle Harry to be at Maurice's, but he wasn't. Instead, he sent an owl on Tuesday saying that they would start discussing the plan soon.  
  
Teddy stopped trying to catch meals with Victoire, and their relationship had become a series of furtive glances across the common room. It was like reading a Fifi LaFolle novel backwards. Teddy was fairly sure that soon she'd simply be a stranger who made a room light up, but who seemed unattainable and impossible to a poor, struggling rogue like himself. And then, he'd find himself living a life where he'd never met her at all, simply dreamed that there was someone out there, and...  
  
He rolled his eyes at himself and got back to work.  
  
On Thursday morning, he was sitting alone in the library when he heard the chair across from him pulled out. He looked up. Victoire was sitting down, biting her lower lip. "Teddy?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I, er... well, I think we shouldn't, er..."  
  
"Do you want to break up?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Thank God," he said. "I didn't want to say it."  
  
"Me, either."  
  
"Bad idea."  
  
"Terrible."  
  
"So we're broken up?" He held out his hand to shake.  
  
She shook it. "Yes."  
  
He closed his book. "You know, I was really hoping it would work."  
  
"Me, too!"  
  
"Oh, well. Doing anything for dinner? I feel like I haven't talked to you for ages."  
  
"Sounds good. Are you going to the Muggles and Minions game on Sunday? I noticed you're doing a lot of homework, but--"  
  
"Oh, I'm going. Tinny says we're working an angle in Frankie's story, so we should be able to link it all together this summer."  
  
"That's great. How's your book doing?"  
  
"I haven't heard, but they were out of it at Flourish and Blotts when I looked on Sunday."  
  
Settling into the conversation easily, neither of them took much note of Madam Pince talking to Nearly Headless Nick at the reference desk, at least until she pointed at them and Nick started floating over.  
  
Teddy stopped talking. "Sir Nicholas?"  
  
"Ah, Mr. Lupin, Miss Weasley, it's good to see you talking again."  
  
"Were you looking for us?" Victoire asked.  
  
"Just Mr. Lupin," Nick said. "He's wanted in the Headmistress's office."

"I'll take your things back to the Tower," Victoire offered. "I need to practice my Feather Light Charm, anyway."  
  
"Thanks," Teddy said, and quickly separated his things from the library books he'd been using.  
  
"Tell me what's going on?"  
  
"If I can."  
  
She nodded, and began to pick up his things, carefully piling his books so that they'd form a balanced stack when she bound and Charmed them. "Glad to have you back, Teddy."  
  
"You, too." He had a wild impulse to kiss her, but as that sort of feeling had got them into the situation they'd just managed to extricate themselves from, he resisted it and smiled instead.  
  
She returned it and waggled her fingers in wave as she bound his books up.  
  
Teddy followed Nick out of the library.  
  
"Do you know what it is?" he asked.  
  
"I only know that I was asked to retrieve you from the library. Madam Pince is rather sour on the new practice of sending Patronuses to gather students.  It causes too much of a distraction. I would assume that it isn't an emergency, or the Headmistress would have disregarded that preference."  
  
Teddy supposed it was true, though his mind Conjured images of Uncle Harry, his face long, saying that something had happened to Granny, or that Sam had found Ruthless and hurt her, or that one of the children had got ill. He supposed that it might also be Granny, saying that something had happened to Uncle Harry, but for some reason--despite the fact that Uncle Harry was in a fairly dangerous job--it rarely occurred to Teddy that he might actually get hurt.  
  
Nick left him at the staircase to the Headmistress's office, and a moment later, the stone guard moved aside, and Teddy found himself on the spiral stairs that took him up to the top of the tower.  
  
Uncle Harry was waiting at the top, his face long.  
  
Teddy's wild imaginings of what horrible news he might be bringing didn't get a chance to take hold--though they tried--because almost immediately, a chair behind Uncle Harry shifted, and a tall blond man stood up. Uncle Harry looked at him with frank distaste. "You remember Draco Malfoy?"  
  
Draco smiled coolly. "Teddy and I are cousins, Potter," he said. "We actually saw one another only a few months ago."  
  
"Hi," Teddy said.  
  
Uncle Harry, his face tight and unreadable, looked at Professor Sprout. "Er, Headmistress? Thank you for offering your office, but..."  
  
Sprout rose from behind her desk, came over, and said, "Mr. Potter, I know your expectations for life in this school are somewhat different from most, but Mr. Lupin has school work to do as well, and has had quite a few distractions this year. If I sense--"  
  
"Trust me, if his marks slip, I'll pull him off of this. And let me know if they do."  
  
As Uncle Harry wasn't Teddy's legal guardian--Granny had been, and now that Teddy was of age, he controlled his own information--Professor Sprout could make no such promise, and no one pretended otherwise. Sprout just shook her head, made a frustrated sound, and left the office. As she did, Teddy noticed a flicker of movement from the other chair near her desk, but it was too high to see around.  
  
Uncle Harry waited until the door had closed, then looked up at the portraits. "You heard Professor Sprout," he said. "This stays in this room. Not a word to anyone that Malfoy and I have been here. That means you as well, Phineas--no gossip at home."  
  
Teddy blinked. "Is this about Cresswell? Ruthless's idea?"  
  
"Yes. Ginny knows, and, against my better judgment, I let her talk me into telling Andromeda--"  
  
"What did Granny say?"  
  
"She came around," Uncle Harry said, "but the initial reaction is, perhaps, best left to your imagination."  
  
Teddy, who knew his grandmother and her fears quite well, didn't have any trouble imagining the scene.  
  
Uncle Harry shook his head. "At any rate, Ginny knows because I had to tell someone, Andromeda knows because I owed it to her to tell her, and Ruth and Maurice know because they're participating. Beyond that--"  
  
"Beyond that," Draco said, "it's just our happy little family." He went to the chair and turned it around. Lucius Malfoy was sitting there, looking out under his hooded eyes. He didn't seem entirely present, but there was still a flicker of malice in there somewhere. It didn't matter. If Teddy meant to impersonate him, they would have to talk, and talk for a long time. Draco gestured to him. "Teddy, you've met my father. Father, do you remember Andromeda's grandson, Ted Lupin?"  
  
Lucius flicked his eyes up and down. There was recognition in them, but he didn't acknowledge having met Teddy before, only saying, "Perhaps."  
  
Teddy pulled up another chair and sat down directly across from Lucius, almost knee to knee. "Mr. Malfoy, I need to talk to you for a little while, I think."  
  
Lucius's nose wrinkled. "Have I any reason to talk to _you?"_  
  
"To help us catch a killer," Uncle Harry said "If that matters."  
  
Lucius didn't answer.  
  
Draco said, "Ted's trying to see to it that you're out of danger from Sam Cresswell."  
  
This had no impact on Lucius whatsoever.  
  
Draco tried again: "Mother wants you to talk to him."  
  
This got only a slightly more animated response.  
  
"Potter," a smooth, low voice said from the wall. "If you would permit me?"  
  
Uncle Harry looked up, surprised. "Professor Snape... er, sure. I mean, yes. Sir."  
  
Snape looked down from his portrait, considering Lucius the way Teddy thought he might have looked at a spoiled potion in his dungeon classroom. "Lucius," he said, "consider this: this man murdered Gregory Goyle. Goyle answered to Draco at all times. Do you imagine that Draco himself isn't a likely target of this maniac?"  
  
Lucius sat up straight, turned to Teddy, and said, "And what do you propose we discuss?"  
  
"Thanks," Uncle Harry said to the portrait.  
  
Teddy nodded, but didn't look at Uncle Harry, Draco, or the portrait of Severus Snape. He kept his eyes on Lucius. "It doesn't matter," he said. "Talk to me about anything you want." He reconsidered. "Why don't you tell me what you thought of my grandfather, Ted Tonks?"  
  
"The Mudblood?" Lucius asked, pulling back with an unaffected sneer.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy--" Uncle Harry started.  
  
Teddy shook his head slightly and held up his hand. He didn't want Lucius being polite. He wanted to memorize Lucius Malfoy at his most provocatively hateful. "Go on," he said. "It's your wife's brother-in-law, you must have some opinion."  
  
"The Mudblood," Lucius said coldly, "bore no relationship to us. Nor did Andromeda, when she chose to become a blood traitor."  
  
"You can't just erase blood," Teddy said. "It must have been quite an annoyance to you."  
  
"Annoyance!" Lucius leaned forward, almost threatening. "That filth had no business at all pawing at a Pureblood girl, and polluting her body and her mind..."  
  
Now started--Teddy had a feeling that Lucius had been stopped on his rants for some time now--the bile started spilling out of him. Teddy listened, trying to tell himself that he was studying, that he wasn't hearing anything he hadn't heard before, that these were strangers Lucius was going on about. It didn't entirely work. By the time he'd listened to Lucius for ten minutes, he wanted to shove the chair backward and out the tower window.  
  
Instead, he sat quietly, watching.  
  
The look was easy enough, and presumably, Draco would lend him clothes and props. But the mannerisms were so unlike his own... it would be a challenge. There was the way Lucius's shoulders squared when he was disgusted with something, the way his lip curled at the thought of "filth," the way he tended to lean forward, into Teddy's own space, whenever he was saying something particularly nasty. The last habit was what was driving Teddy toward a violent reaction, and of course that was the goal--the constant invasion of his personal space, armed with insults meant to provoke someone who had already been put into a defensive stance by posture alone, was _meant_ to goad a perceived adversary into violence, which would then be used to prove how truly low such an obviously inferior person had sunk.  
  
The office grew quiet, and Teddy realized that a shadow of a smirk was dancing around Lucius's mouth. "What's the matter?" Lucius asked. "Can't you think of an argument?"  
  
Teddy morphed his hair white, let it recede, and mottled his skin ever so slightly around the face and hands. He shrank four inches, and made himself thin, so that his skin hung off of his bones like an old man's. Finally, he changed the color of his eyes and shapes of his face and leaned forward aggressively. "I think," he said, "that I've heard enough to know that you haven't changed a bit. I think you're still evil, and I don't think you're nearly as foggy as you've been pretending to be to get everyone's sympathy. I think you're not getting mine anymore."  
  
Lucius sat back, his eyes going foggy again, his shoulders curling inward. "Draco," he said, "I would like to go home now. I'm tired."  
  
Teddy took back his normal shape and sat back in his own chair. "I think I can do it." He looked at Uncle Harry and Draco.  
  
Uncle Harry looked disturbed at the morph, but Draco was looking at him with frank admiration.   
  
Draco smiled. "I'm impressed."  
  
"I need a little more practice when he's not so... tired. I need to watch him walking a little."  
  
"Maurice will let you Floo to Malfoy Manor through the store when your tutoring is done next week," Uncle Harry said. "But after that, we'll have to start the charade."  
  
"Asteria will take my father out of the country by Side-Along Apparition," Draco said. "Off the record, let's say. And I'll have Rita over to dinner, and hint that Dad may have gone off wandering again. We'll have rumors in place before you start."  
  
"And Ruth is already working on getting her notification charm worked into a cloak," Uncle Harry finished. "You'll be safe."  
  
There was nothing else to say. Draco and Lucius Malfoy disappeared through the Floo, and Uncle Harry, after a few attempts at passing along trivial information from home, disappeared after them.  
  
Teddy went back down the spiral staircase, meaning to go back to Gryffindor Tower and finish his homework. Instead, he veered abruptly off in the direction of the prefects' bathroom. He was running by the time he got there, and Corky, who was coming out, got out of the way quickly, asking as Teddy breezed past if he had a stomach flu.  
  
Teddy didn't answer him, but he wasn't going in to vomit.  
  
He turned on all the taps in the tub, filled the room with sweet scents, then slipped into the water.  
  
He stayed there a long time before Conjuring large, clean towels and going back up into the world.

He didn't stop to talk to anyone on the way up.  They didn't seem real to him.  He climbed through the portrait hole (nearly catching one of his towels in the process) and went straight up to his room.  A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

"Teddy?" Victoire called softly from the other side. "Can I come in?"  
  
Teddy Banished his towels to the laundry basket, pulled on a jumper over his clean blue jeans, and said, "Sure, come on, it's open."  
  
The door opened, and she came in, carrying his books from the library. Without asking, she went to his bookshelves and started to put them up, in subject order. "What did the Headmistress want?"  
  
"I can't tell you," Teddy said. "I would if I could, but it's not my call."  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "Uncle Harry was here?"  
  
Teddy didn't answer.  
  
"Well, tell him I said hello when you see him again." She finished with the books. "I've been having some trouble in Potions. Could you help me?"  
  
Teddy gladly agreed, and they spent a pleasant half hour trying to get her through a Calming Draft.  She left once he was convinced that she understood what she was doing.  
  
"I'm glad to see Victoire again," Mum said from the painting.  
  
"Me, too," Teddy said. "Just remind me never to take her on another date."  
  
"What's this?" Sirius looked up from the table, where he and Dad had pulled in an old chess set from some other painting. "Is this Lupin defeatism?"  
  
"No, it was just a disaster," Teddy said.  
  
"Oh, of course." Sirius nodded wisely. "It's a catastrophe, and the world will end at any moment. Can't risk that again."  
  
"Shut up, Sirius," Dad said pleasantly. "Check in three."  
  
Sirius ordered a castle to take up a few spaces, obviously not caring about the game. "I'm sure he's right," he said. "He might take her out again, and then they might actually kiss--or who knows what else goes on when a girl moves the portrait--"  
  
"Enough, Sirius," Mum said.  
  
"--and _then_ what will happen after inevitable messy end of things?" He shook his head with deep, feigned resignation. "Yes, all told, much safer not to risk all that. Better to sit up here, with our homework and our portrait to dispense wise advice, no, _sublime_ advice, really..."  
  
Teddy grinned and said, "Shut up, Sirius."  
  
"As Master wishes," Sirius said, bowing.  
  
"What Harry wanted," Mum prodded. "Is it what we talked about?"  
  
"Yes, but please don't say anything to any of the other portraits. The Headmasters' portraits aren't allowed to talk, but all I can do is ask you."  
  
"Aren't _allowed,_ " Sirius mused. "Never become Headmaster, Teddy."  
  
"By which he means," Dad said, "that we do have some experience keeping secrets, and it was very polite of you to ask nicely, but we're not disposed to spread tactical secrets around."  
  
Teddy turned his chair around and sat on it backward, his hands on the back, to look at the portrait. "Mum, did you ever have to morph into someone you didn't like very well?"  
  
"I generally created people from whole cloth," she said. She bit her lip. "I interviewed Uncle Lucius once, at Azkaban."  
  
"He's a bit creepy."  
  
"Yes. But he was glad to hear that his wife and son missed and loved him. He's not inhuman."  
  
"I know. Professor Snape got him to listen by--"  
  
"You had Snivelly's help?" Sirius said, exaggerating indignation. "Tell us a way to help. I insist on getting on even terms."  
  
Mum looked at him sternly until he sat down, then said, "Lucius Malfoy is an evil man, and I think he knows, on some level, that he's evil, or that people see him that way. I don't think he imagines himself bettering the world for everyone, just getting what he feels he's owed. The most important thing, though, is that he's utterly convinced of his own superiority. The act of questioning his superiority is proof, to him, of another person's _in_ feriority."  
  
"Sounds like Geoff Phillips."  
  
"From what you've told us of Phillips," Dad said, "I think that's exactly right. Had Lucius been Muggle-born, I think that's exactly how he would have behaved. It's a zero sum game--it can't, to their minds, end up with things better for everyone. One side or the other has to win everything, and they intend it to be their side. Speaking of which, Sirius, checkmate."  
  
"I've lost!" Sirius stared at the board. "Well, then, it's all over. Dora, brew up some turpentine, it's over."  
  
"Don't tempt me," Mum said lightly.  
  
Dad started to put away the chess board. Where it belonged, Teddy had no idea. Sirius came forward to the frame, standing a little in front of Mum. The smirk had left his face. "Listen, Wings," he said, "as someone who grew up in a family not entirely unlike the Malfoys', I can tell you that as mad as it looks from the outside, it's a lot madder on the inside. It's so mad that it seems perfectly rational to them. It's my brother I wish you could talk to. Do you think you could... dream him?"  
  
"I never have."  
  
Sirius nodded. "Well, he talked to me enough. I thought he was full of it and as mad as Mum, so I just ignored him, but... I reckon it might help you to know how he talked. How he _felt_."  
  
"It really might," Teddy said. "But Regulus turned out good at the end."  
  
"When Voldemort hurt Kreacher," Sirius reminded him. "Because that was the sum of it, for Regulus. There was a whole world that he loved. He felt like it was crumbling around him, and he found the worst possible way to defend it. I don't imagine Lucius was ever as sentimental as Reg, but I think it probably comes from the same place. The way you hear Phillips... imagine that he heard everyone who expressed doubt about pure-blood privilege exactly like that. I think that's how we all sounded to Reg, and probably Lucius, too. Must have felt like walking around with a stone in their shoes all the time."  
  
"I don't think it was in their _shoes_ ," Mum muttered. "Now, enough of this. Teddy will do fine. Harry and Ron and Ruth will catch Cresswell, and everything will straighten itself out. Which brings us back to the fair Miss Weasley..."  
  
Teddy talked to the portrait until he felt considerably better, then finished his Potions homework, scryed for Divination, and put in an hour's research on a rather long paper that was due in Charms next month. Lastly, he wrote a letter to Minerva McGonagall. It wouldn't be wise at this particular point to reveal to the world that he was an Animagus, but he could formally begin his studies, so that, should he need to escape that way, it couldn't be held against Uncle Harry for harboring an illegal Animagus. Again.  
  
Still not sleepy, though it was getting late, he transformed into a hawk and slipped out of his window. He thought briefly of going back for his letter and delivering it to McGonagall personally, but decided against it. Better to at least give the appearance of playing by the book, so she would also have some sort of plausible deniability.  
  
With no particular destination in mind, he aimlessly followed the trench that had once been the secret passage to the Shrieking Shack. At this time of year, it was partly full of muddy ice, and its sides glistened with frost in the moonlight. He followed its meandering line to Screech Hill, landed and transformed, and reached out for the keys. They came into his hand, and he opened the gate.  
  
Despite the cool of winter, a few hardy things had taken root in the little valley he and Victoire had created of the cellar hole in October. A little scrubby pine tree she'd moved was now sturdily rooted in a new place, and there was moss on the rocks. At the top of the hill, the tulip-shaped window into nothing was glowing in the moonlight. Teddy went to it.  
  
There was no reason to believe that the glass carried any magic. True, it had been broken in the magical shattering of the house, but as far as Teddy knew, there was no special after-effect of the Blasting Curse, other than a lot of rubble. Still, he sat down in front of it, looking through it toward the spot where his house had once stood. It had got a bit dirty, so he cleaned it off. The moon was behind him now, and the far side of the glass was dark. It showed his reflection almost as truly as a mirror.  
  
He passed his hand over it, as he would his crystal ball.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Silly idea, anyway.  
  
He didn't feel like flying back to school yet, so he lay down on the cold ground and cast a Warming Charm on himself. The earthy breezes and the far off stars lulled him, and he drifted down into sleep.  
  
In sleep, the cold winter night became a soft and warm summer day. He looked through the glass, and saw the Shrieking Shack as he'd once imagined it--not grand, but friendly and welcoming. Through its windows, he could see the ghosts of his brothers and sisters wandering shapelessly in the ether. He knew that Dad was in the garden shed behind him, sleeping off a full moon. The back door opened, and Mum came out. She sat on the other side of the glass, and morphed her nose into a pig's nose.  
  
Teddy smiled. "That's a useful one."  
  
"I always liked it," she said. "It seems you've been morphing quite a lot lately."  
  
"Oh, just into Lucius. And Wings," Teddy added, flapping his arms to indicate a bird.  
  
"Really?" Mum morphed into Teddy, grimacing at the Malfoys, then into Teddy bent over his homework, then into Teddy laughing with the portrait.  
  
"Oh, that... that was just... well, there's a lot going on."  
  
"I know. I wonder if you've missed anything important." She morphed into Ruthless, then into Victoire, then into Uncle Harry, then into Lucius, then into Honoria, then into Laura Chapman. She held the last form. "What do you think, Teddy? Have you missed something?"  
  
He awoke with a start, cold again, blinking into the pre-dawn darkness.  
  
In everything... Laura. What had Laura said?  
  
 _I don't think Cresswell's alone anymore._  
  
He straightened his shoulders.  
  
 _I don't think Cresswell's alone anymore. I see shadows around him._  
  
He transformed into Wings without any hesitation, and flew back to the castle, slipping into his window before anyone would know he'd been missing.   
  
It hadn't even occurred to him to tell Uncle Harry what Laura had seen in Divination Class. Uncle Harry didn't take Divination particularly seriously, anyway. But that had been important.  
  
It was true that they had to catch Sam Cresswell. The plan they had in place might even work.  
  
But it wouldn't be the end of it.


	20. Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy is reminded that he is not the only one who can help Harry, when his classmate Sees shadows surrounding and supporting the elusive killer; meanwhile, he begins his masquerade, which has immediate results.

Teddy thought about trying to work the still life that guarded the Hufflepuff door. It seemed simple enough--you had to rearrange the food on the plates for guests. He'd seen Tinny and Roger and Frankie do it hundreds of times. But in all likelihood, you had to be a part of the House to do it, and he didn't want to bother with getting detention for trying to break in, so he camped outside, by the kitchens (a bleary-eyed Winky looked at him suspiciously as she went in to start breakfast), until the door opened.  
  
"Lupin?"  
  
Teddy got to his feet. Roger Young was coming out, dressed in blue jeans and a tee shirt, obviously on his way to help Hagrid at the barns. Teddy nodded to him. "I need to talk to Laura. I didn't want to scare her, sending a Patronus, but I'd like to talk to her--"  
  
"You're not going out with her again, are you? Because I'm not playing at being a messenger--"  
  
Teddy shook his head. "It's about Divination. We're taking it together."  
  
"And you have to talk to her about it at five-thirty in the damned morning." Roger shook his head. "Give me a minute. I think I saw Luna Summerby up and about; she'll be able to get to the girls' dormitories. Come in. Wait in the chairs."  
  
Teddy went into the Hufflepuff Common Room, one of his favorite places at Hogwarts, and took his accustomed Muggles and Minions seat. Roger went to a small blond girl who was frantically working on an essay and spoke to her quietly for a minute. She looked stricken, but got up and went.  
  
Roger came back over. "She's losing her train of thought for you."  
  
"Sorry. I--"  
  
Roger waved it off. "It's Hufflepuff House. We know that if we're in the Common Room, someone might ask for help, and if that happens, we go help. If we can't do that, we work in our rooms."  
  
Luna Summerby disappeared into the round corridor that was lined with the doors to the girls' dormitories. Teddy saw her stop near the end--he supposed the seventh year girls were behind the fifth door, just as he was on the fifth floor of Gryffindor Tower--and knock on the door, which opened. Tinny came out, wiping her face, becoming more alert as Luna conveyed the request (Teddy couldn't hear, and he guessed that there was some magic keeping the dormitories quiet). Tinny leaned back into the room, made a gesture (Teddy could only see a vague motion of her arm), and then Laura came outside. Tinny pointed.  
  
Laura, pulling on a dressing gown, gave him a curious frown, and followed Luna back out. Luna bit her lip.  
  
"Go on and finish your essay," Laura said. "I'll read it for you before you go to Defense Against the Dark Arts. We'll work out the bit about the Red Caps." She reconsidered. "Actually, since you're doing a favor for Teddy Lupin, I can't think of many people who could go over Red Caps with you better." She gave him a pointed look, and Luna looked at him cautiously.  
  
"Sure," Teddy said. "I got an up close and personal view when I was a first year. I'll find you at breakfast."  
  
Looking both relieved and terrified, Luna Summerby dashed back to her chair and began to work again.  
  
"If that's all," Roger said, "I'd best get to the barns before Dapple decides to eat my Ouzelum."  
  
"Thanks, Roger," Teddy said.  
  
Roger left.  
  
Laura sat down in the chair beside Teddy, curling her legs up under her. In the process, she showed a length of thigh that turned Teddy's attention entirely away from murderers for a moment. A lacy nightgown beneath the dressing gown seemed to cling to her. Teddy drew his attention up to her face, which didn't help, as he noticed that she looked quite a lot like Victoire, something that hadn't occurred to him in the two months they'd dated, and...  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "All right. I'm interested. I know you didn't drop by just to see me in a dressing gown."  
  
Teddy shook off the momentary attraction--Laura had never been more than a passing interest in that way--then cast a Muffling Charm and said, "I had a dream last night. About what you said when you scryed for me. About Cresswell?"  
  
"Oh." Laura looked alarmed. "Teddy, you know I'm not as good a Seer as you are. All I saw were shadows. I couldn't tell you a thing about them."  
  
"Could you just describe them?" Teddy shook his head sharply. "And don't talk about not being a terrific Seer. You're the only other person to make it to N.E.W.T.s, and you Saw something that day that I haven't Seen at all, and I've been looking."  
  
"It was just because you _asked_..."  
  
"Laura--what did you see?"  
  
"I don't think I could describe them. I--" She blinked. "Wait, I might be able to do something better. It's the Charm I've been working on for Flitwick. Let me get my crystal ball and my camera. And some clothes." She stood and ran back to her room.  
  
Teddy had no idea what sort of Charm she might be working on that would involve her crystal ball and her camera. He waited for her impatiently, thinking about going over and helping little Luna to pass the time, but concerned that he'd have to interrupt himself if Laura came back. Being interrupted in the middle of a lesson wasn't good for students _or_ teachers.  
  
Laura came back five minutes later--it felt like an hour--wearing her school robes and carrying both of the items she'd mentioned, plus a pile of photographic paper, which she laid out on the table, and indicated that Teddy should come over. Efficiently, she set up a Darkroom Charm around them--it could be seen through perfectly well from either side, but protected film anyway. She'd obviously done this quite a lot.  
  
"So, what's this Charm?"  
  
"I wanted see if I could get an image in a crystal ball to photograph." She set up her camera on a tripod between the crystal and the photo paper. "It's not easy, because it means that you have to actually be able to show something that you might only be seeing in your mind. You know the debate."  
  
"Is it the crystal ball, or the Seer's eye?"  
  
"Right, that one." She shrugged. "I think it's a bit of both. You never saw all of those literal things you see now before you got the new one, and you've always had the same eyes."  
  
"True."  
  
"Anyway, it's not perfect, but I've got it enough for Flitwick to give me credit. It's more that I'm projecting my memory of what I saw before into the crystal ball, and using the camera to capture it. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but I think that capturing the memory..." She shrugged again. "Well, you'll see. It's a distorted picture of a fuzzy memory of an unclear vision. Fair warning."  
  
"I'll take it under advisement," Teddy said.  
  
Laura smiled nervously, then passed her hands over her crystal ball. It glowed. She focused on it, and Teddy could almost see something moving. Then she raised her wand, pointed it the camera, and opened and closed the shutter several times.  
  
There was nothing for him to do for the next few minutes, while she engaged in the utterly foreign pursuit of developing a photograph. Finally, she sighed heavily and said, "This is as good as it's going to get. For what it's worth, it's the best one yet."  
  
"It's amazing," Teddy said, quite honestly, though the picture itself meant almost nothing to him. He could see Laura's face distorted through the crystal, but the middle of it was blocked by a dark, spreading shadow. At the center of it was something shiny.  
  
"A needle," Laura explained when she saw him looking. "I don't See people, like you do. But I saw the Needle's Eye killer as a needle."  
  
"That makes sense."  
  
She pointed to the black mass around the needle. "At first, it was bars, and I thought, 'Good, they're going to catch him.' But then it started moving and turning into this. See? It's like a Shield Charm."  
  
"Protection, not prison."  
  
"Right," she said. "And here"--she pointed to an odd shaped swirl in the shadows--"can you see the face? I mean, not a particular face, but a face. A person's face. And there's another, and another." She pointed to different parts of the picture. Teddy had to examine it with morphed hawk's eyes, but once he did, he saw what she meant. She smiled uncertainly. "So, you see, that's why I thought he wasn't alone, that it wasn't any special magical protection. I think I see people around him. They're doing things for him so he doesn't have to risk going out. Or maybe that's guessing too much; that's not in the vision."  
  
"I think it's a _good_ guess," Teddy said.  
  
"I was thinking it was like Greyback." She winced. "Sorry, Teddy."  
  
"No, it's all right. I'm a lot less skittish about Greyback than I was when you and I were going out. I've been thinking about him a bit this year as well." He picked up the picture, which was already starting to fade.  
  
"I can't seem to make them stay," Laura said. "The pictures..."  
  
"That might be in the potion," Teddy said. "I'll see what I can do."  
  
"Did it help?"  
  
"I think it's important to know," Teddy told her. "Really important. I have to tell Uncle Harry."  
  
Laura looked quite terrified at the prospect of having her vision shared with Harry Potter, but she didn't object.  
  
Teddy helped her take apart the magical darkroom, then, while she went to take care of her hair and make-up, he went over to Luna Summerby and said, "So, what can I tell you about Red Caps?" 

* * *

"It makes sense," Uncle Harry said. He was in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, and from Teddy's perspective in the fireplace, he could see that he'd done a lazy job shaving under his chin. The rest of the family had headed upstairs to the dining room for breakfast on his request. "It'd almost _have_ to be true, when you think about it. If it were just him, he might be able to do it, but he's hiding his mother and his brother somewhere, and the brother, at least, couldn't handle life on the run." He ground his teeth. "Teddy, how many have you involved this?"  
  
"Oh, no one who has the slightest idea," Teddy said. "Well, except Mum and Dad and Sirius, but they won't say anything. As far as Laura knew, I was just... blue-skying a question for her to scry for me." He reconsidered. "Well, she probably suspects _something_ \--she's not stupid--but not any more idea than anyone in my Defense Against the Dark Arts class, from last autumn."  
  
Uncle Harry nodded, and Summoned his breakfast. He offered Teddy a piece of toast, and waited for a no before eating it himself. "Be careful how many hints you drop. I know you usually are, but I imagine your year-mates are expecting you to jump into this somehow by now, and they're probably watching for it."  
  
"Mm."  
  
"Teddy... you don't have to."  
  
"Yes I do."  
  
"I suppose." Uncle Harry pulled a low stool over. "Are you alone?"  
  
"I'm using Professor Longbottom's floo."  
  
"Tell Neville thank you. The plan for Sunday is that you'll go to Maurice's a bit earlier than usual, and do your regular tutoring with him. He'll resist that."  
  
"I know, but I want him to get his N.E.W.T.s. So would his parents."  
  
"Well, so does the Headmistress, as that's the reason she gave you leave to come to London every week in the first place."  
  
"All right, so I'll go a bit early."  
  
"When you've finished, make a show of Disapparating and saying you have a lot to do back at school, but Disapparate here. Straight to the front step. I'd lend you my Cloak, but there's no good place to put it on. Just come to the front step and come right through the door. It'll be unlocked from four-thirty until you actually arrive. Ruth will be here with her Alarm Charms."  
  
"All right."  
  
"And from there"--he wrinkled his nose--"you'll Floo directly to Malfoy Manor. Draco and I, on the condition that it will not be permanent, have set up a direct link. I never thought I'd have an unsecured link between my home and Malfoy Manor."  
  
"Er... thanks?"  
  
"Sorry, Teddy. I'm a bit out of sorts about it, but it's the best way. The only comfort is that Draco is even more out of sorts than I am." He laughed bitterly. "Anyway, once you're there, Narcissa Malfoy will tell you what you'll need to do. She'll also give you a different wand for the evening."  
  
"A different--"  
  
"It's dangerous. Sam will try to disarm you if he catches you. I didn't think you'd want to risk Tonks's wand."  
  
"Oh. Thanks."  
  
"Anyway, who knows what Sam will pick up? Narcissa will give you a wand that Lucius could conceivably have found in the Manor, even though he isn't actually allowed to carry a wand anymore."  
  
"That makes sense."  
  
"No unnecessary risks. I mean it. Establish a pattern. He most likely won't come the first night."  
  
Teddy agreed, and went to class. He felt like he'd already been awake all day, but it wasn't even nine o'clock yet.  
  
Classes dragged for the day, and Saturday seemed like it would never end. There was even an objective sense of it--in a mad attempt to force Time's hand, Teddy finished assignments in three classes, got a good bit of work done in a fourth, and changed directions on his Potion again, this time working with Laura so that he could come up with a photograph Potion that would retain the images she channeled through her crystal ball. He tried using her Charm himself, but it turned out that cameras, like wands, developed a magical affinity for their users, and he was completely unable to make it work.  
  
Sunday came at last, and even though Teddy left four hours earlier than he usually did, it felt later. Once he was tutoring Maurice, things seemed to revert to normal time--whenever he taught, he could feel Dad comfortably inside his head, and it was always pleasant--even though Maurice didn't want to "waste time" on his studies. Teddy got him through his work, made some corrections on what he'd done very carelessly during the week, and then they walked together, talking about Teddy's planned date at Hogwarts later, which was why he'd allegedly come in early. They reached beyond the shop's Disapparition barrier, and Teddy turned on his heel and pulled himself to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. He let himself in. Mad Auntie made a huge racket at the thought of an unnatural creature entering without permission, but as she was inside, its only effect was to let everyone in the kitchen know he was there. Ruthless gave him a fine, heavy cloak whose gold buttons she'd Charmed. "One hard tug on any of them," she said, "and every Auror in the country will be on top of you."  
  
Teddy nodded, folded it over his arm, and Flooed to Malfoy Manor.  
  
Where Granny was waiting for him by the fireplace.  
  
He blinked at her as soon as he stopped spinning (coming to rest in an awkward thump against the wall). "Granny? What...?"  
  
"Your grandmother's been looking after me again," a soft voice said. Teddy looked to sofa, where Narcissa Malfoy had been sitting, unnoticed. "If I must be ill, I'm at least glad that I have my sister back for it."  
  
"Finish the potion, Cissy," Granny said absently, watching out of the corner of her eye until Narcissa had quaffed something out of a coffee cup. She focused her attention on Teddy. "I don't like this one bit, but if you're determined to do it, let's get it right."  
  
Teddy reached into his robes and got out his wand. He handed it to Granny. "Here. Could you keep it for me while I'm out?"  
  
Narcissa started to get up.  "I've got--"  
  
"Sit down, Cissy," Granny said. "I'll get it."  
  
Narcissa rolled her eyes. "It's in my sewing box in the dining room."  
  
Granny left the room.  
  
"You... sew?"  
  
Narcissa smiled. Teddy realized that she must have the Fading Sickness again, as she seemed to blend into the sofa. "Good heavens, no. It's an heirloom. I think the last person to actually use it for sewing was Phineas Nigellus's wife. She left it to her granddaughter, Cassiopeia, but Cassiopeia never had children, so she gave it to my mother, and my mother gave it to... well, we won't mention that... and, at any rate, it made its way to me. I have it out for display." She sighed. "Perhaps I should use it to make something. It would be good to make something."  
  
"Are you all right, Aunt Narcissa?"  
  
"I will be. As soon as the Potion starts working."  
  
Granny came back, carrying a wicker basket with an embroidered cushion on top. The embroidery was the crest of the House of Black, with its greyhounds and sword stitched in silver thread. Granny handed it to Narcissa.  
  
Narcissa opened the basket and carefully took out the top shelf, which contained a selection of needles set artfully into a cushioned panel and a pair of pristine looking scissors. (Teddy couldn't imagine why scissors would have been needed, when Severing Charms would have certainly been used, but he supposed there were just standard things that such a basket would have.) Beneath the shelf was a small box with tiny spools of thread; Teddy supposed these _were_ magical, and would just replicate until the witch or wizard using them was done. There were also a few carefully folded bits of fabric, a measuring tape, and a few patterns. Narcissa took each of these things out with great care. The basket now appeared to be empty, except for a queerly mottled bit of red fabric lining.  
  
Narcissa pointed her wand at her finger, and a drop of blood appeared. She pressed it to the lining, making a darker spot that spread out. The bottom panel of the basket split into two parts, which lifted up to reveal a chamber underneath. By the size of the basket, it ought to have been less than half an inch deep, but of course, it was quite roomy. Inside it, Teddy could see several things carefully laid out, but Narcissa paid no attention to them. She pulled out a long black wand. "Ebony," she said. "With a phoenix feather."  
  
"Is that--?" Granny started.  
  
"Father's wand," Narcissa confirmed, and handed it to Teddy. "No one knows where I keep it, so anyone who didn't know it was blood-locked could reasonably think Lucius had got it. Of course, I couldn't ever let him, he's... he's not in any proper state to do magic." She shook this off. "It belonged to your great-grandfather, so it really ought to have enough affinity with you to protect you, should it be necessary, but it wouldn't be mourned if lost."  
  
"It's your father's."  
  
She shrugged. "We weren't close. He was always away. It was Uncle Alphard who looked after us, and I'm not giving you his."  
  
" _You_ have it?" Granny asked.  
  
"They gave it to Grandmother and Grandfather when he died, and when they died, Dad had it. Thank God Bella didn't want it." She stopped. "Sorry. I didn't mean to--"  
  
"She was alive and quite unfortunately made a difference in the way things happened in our lives," Granny said. "It's foolish to pretend otherwise at this point."  
  
There was an awkward silence during which Teddy took Cygnus Black's wand, then the door opened, and Draco came in with Lucius's clothes. Teddy changed, morphed, and slipped out into the night.

Draco had suggested that Lucius had wandered from the house through a side door more than once, so Teddy chose that door to leave Malfoy Manor. He pulled the dark cloak--the one with the alarmed buttons--tightly around him, looked at the house, then slipped into the shadows. He felt a bit foolish in character when it wasn't likely that anyone was looking, but just in case...  
  
He followed the shadows of Malfoy Manor until he came to a paddock that might have once housed prized flying horses--it was far finer than Hagrid's barn--and walked across the small, moonlit area between them, casting a deliberately sly look at the house. Inside, he could see Draco and Narcissa and Granny through the window. They looked like they were putting on a show themselves. (He might have wondered if Lucius really had gone missing, but apparently, Draco's wife had taken on the duty of escorting him out of the country, Polyjuiced as a valet.) Once at the barn, he was nearly halfway to the gates, and the Disapparition point. More to the point, he could put the barn between himself and the house, and look like he was plausibly escaping their watchful eye.  
  
Mindful of Lucius's physical frailty, Teddy slipped around the barn and to the high walls of Malfoy Manor. A white peacock looked at him without much interest; he hoped that the peacocks weren't habitually friendly with the real Lucius.  
  
Finally, he was beyond the gates. He looked around himself, wondering if anyone was watching from the grasslands, letting himself feel the paranoia that Lucius would surely feel at this point. He could see the thin, fragile skin on his hands, feel the wisps of long white hair tugged in the breeze.  
  
 _I am Lucius Malfoy,_ Teddy thought. _And I am free._  
  
The thought brought an unexpected giddiness as Teddy Disapparated, pushing himself away from the Wiltshire hills, to a small, hidden alley not far from the Leaky Cauldron. He could have gone straight to Knockturn Alley--in fact, it now seemed more obvious, but he wanted to be seen.  
  
 _I want to be seen. I want them to_ know _they can't keep me in a prison warded by my wife and son. Let them think I've gone soft, but let them see me. The wise ones will know better._  
  
Teddy let his shoulders stoop somewhat, leaning on a walking stick Draco had brought with the clothes. He made a show of hiding his wand, then slowly walked to the door of the Cauldron.  
  
When he first opened the door, no one noticed him. One more wispy old wizard coming in for a late drink. At the bar, Hannah Longbottom was too careful trying not to break glasses with her swollen belly to pay any heed to her new customer, and only a few of her patrons turned to look when the cold night air blew against their necks.  
  
Teddy waited for the door to close.  
  
An old witch at the bar, who had glanced without much interest, turned again. Teddy could almost feel her eyes on him. He met her gaze. She ducked away, suddenly finding her mixed drink a matter of great fascination. A wizard--younger, but not by much--saw this motion, looked at Teddy and squared his shoulders, glaring defiantly. Teddy gave him the same, non-responsive stare that Lucius had given Teddy himself. The man forced his stare to go on, then dramatically turned his nose up and turned away.  
  
Behind the bar, Hannah finally looked up. She smiled coolly. "Is there something I can get for you, Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
Teddy wrinkled his nose. "Other than the Aurors I have no doubt you've already contacted?"  
  
"There's no need for them," Hannah said.  
  
"Hmm." To end the conversation, Teddy simply turned around, shutting her out of his viewpoint. He went out the back door and into the alley, silently vowing to find a way to apologize to Hannah later. He went to the brick wall, pulled out his wand--and this, he realized, was the important part: to let people believe that Lucius was walking about armed--and hit the sequence of bricks that allowed him into Diagon Alley.  
  
It was night-busy. The shops were mostly closed here, but the restaurants and a small club were open. A young couple--Teddy thought he recognized them from a couple of years ahead of him at Hogwarts--were stumbling out, dressed for dancing, but unsteady on their feet. They noticed Teddy looking at them. The man carefully shielded the woman as they went past, and Teddy heard her whisper, "Wasn't that--?" as they went on their way.  
  
He passed Flourish and Blotts, glaring in the window at a copy of _Martian's Mistake_ that had been put on display, and went on toward Madam Malkin's, passed Fortescue Park and the Willow, and, across from Gringotts, turned left into Knockturn Alley. He had a moment's thought of Runcorn's body strung up here last summer, his eyes sliced open, and jumped away from the shadows.  
  
There was no motion.  
  
A few doors down, a hag leaned out the front window of her shop, which appeared to sell shrunken heads. She drew back and closed the window against him.  
  
 _They still fear me_ , Teddy thought, then shook his head. They still feared Lucius Malfoy. About Teddy Lupin, they had, in all likelihood, no opinion at all.  
  
The final part of tonight's pantomime was at Borgin and Burke's. Teddy didn't want to involve Maurice any more than was necessary, but Maurice wanted to be more involved than was really warranted. They'd compromised.  
  
Teddy went to the door of Borgin and Burke's and tried to open it. It was, of course, locked.  
  
He slammed his walking stick down on the cobblestones. Maurice appeared at the upper window--he was up doing the books, Teddy supposed--and shook his head.  
  
Teddy drew his wand, and cast a harmless charm that made a spill of silent fireworks go off outside the window. Or was supposed to. With Cygnus Black's wand, it created a spiral of red sparks that formed a dagger, which proceeded to stab at the window.  
  
Maurice opened the window. "Charming," he said. "If you don't mind, I don't want to see any more knives in here."  
  
"I apologize," Teddy said, hoping that Maurice would know that Lucius's tone of disdain was part of the act. "You know why I've come."  
  
"I told you not to," Maurice said.  
  
"I had a deal with Borgin."  
  
"I'm not Borgin."  
  
"The deal still holds."  
  
Maurice wrinkled his nose. "I'll have to check the books and see the details. Come back next week."  
  
With this, he slammed the window shut, leaving Teddy alone on the street.  
  
Something made a shuffling sound in the shadows behind him. He turned. There was a single white peacock feather lying on the street, spanning the narrow corridor between two shops. He looked in.  
  
Nothing was moving, but he suspected that he wasn't alone.  
  
If he went into that alley, someone would be waiting, and it wasn't big enough to move to pull on the cloak, or to transform into a hawk.  
  
He had promised to take no unnecessary chances.  
  
He Summoned the feather, then turned on his heel and Disapparated.  
  
He half-expected to find a dead peacock on his arrival at Malfoy Manor, but apparently the feather had just been plucked. He let himself back in, changed back into his own clothes and face, traded wands, then Flooed back to Grimmauld Place to let Uncle Harry know what had happened.  
  
"Thank you for not going in," he said, taking the feather. "I likely would have."  
  
"Sorry, I guess we might have caught him--"  
  
"I said, _thank you_ for not going in."  
  
"Right."  
  
"I've been thinking of the best way to get you back to Hogwarts. I thought we could walk to the Apparition point under my Cloak, but that would only get you to the gate, and everyone and his brother would know when you came in. So I've let Neville in on it, and you can Floo through his office."  
  
"All right. What about the Headmistress?"  
  
"We're at the edge of her last nerve," Uncle Harry admitted. "I didn't want to push it."  
  
"Oh." Teddy felt for his wand, which seemed very comfortable in his hand, and said, "Why did Cygnus's wand make such a different Charm?"  
  
"It wasn't, really," Uncle Harry said. "It's a simple Glitter Charm, but that's a kind of Conjuring, and Conjuring is always going to take on something of the character of both the wizard and the wand."  
  
"That partly came from _me_?"  
  
"Partly. I wouldn't worry. You were playing a character, and Cygnus Black would likely revel in it, if most of what Andromeda has told me over the years is true."  
  
Teddy bit his lip. "Who's looking after Maurice this week?"  
  
"I am. And Ruth. And the shop is very deeply protected since the murders."  
  
"It was protected before them. Remember, we worried about merchandise being Cursed to protect the place?"  
  
"The place," Uncle Harry said, "was well protected. It was the people in it who were hurt. The fire didn't take any merchandise, and the window probably cut Sam when he broke through it. Now, Maurice is included in the protection on the shop, and in his flat."  
  
Teddy nodded. "All right."  
  
"You'd best get back now. Try to do your school work during the week."  
  
"I will." Teddy hugged Uncle Harry, then stepped into the fireplace. A moment later, he was dusting himself off in Professor Longbottom's office, and a few minutes after that, he was in bed, Checkmate curled up at his feet.  
  
The next morning at breakfast, the morning edition of the _Daily Prophet_ arrived. On the front page--not above the fold, but still on the front page--was a picture of Teddy, as Lucius, standing outside Borgin and Burke's. Beside it, a very prominent headline read, "Look Who's Back."


	21. Into Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan heats up, as Maurice spreads rumors in London and Teddy takes on his most dangerous morph to catch Cresswell once and for all... with help coming from someone he doesn't expect.

_Long thought to be an invalid_ , the article began, _Lucius Malfoy--a Death Eater in whose home the followers of Lord Voldemort made their camp--was seen last night in Diagon and Knockturn Alleys, in London, apparently in good health and attempting business with the venerable Dark Arts shop, Borgin and Burke's. The new proprietor of the shop after the tragic death of his parents earlier this year, Maurice Burke, was able to put him off, but has very quickly become an outspoken skeptic of the idea that Lucius is in any way incapacitated.  
  
"He did business with Borgin for years," Burke says, "and he's probably been doing it all along. He just assumed I'd pick it right up. I'm not Borgin." Of reports that Malfoy used a wand, Burke simply raises an eyebrow and says, "Unless he's learnt to point his finger and create knife-shaped fireworks to threaten me, I should think he's picked one up somewhere."  
  
Whilst popular reports that Malfoy is under house arrest are incorrect--he is free to walk about as he chooses, though his wife and son claim to have kept him at home for unidentified health concerns--he is, in fact, prohibited from carrying a wand, and has been since the end of the war. Reports that this particularly dangerous, and reportedly unrepentant, Death Eater is once again armed are causing alarm among the wizarding populace.  
  
Harry Potter, head of the Auror Division, is clearly spooked by the re-emergence of his old enemy, despite his attempts to advise calm. "Lucius is the responsibility of the Aurors," he says, his well-known face pale and drawn. "Anyone attempting vigilante justice will be dealt with severely. He is not to be harmed in any way. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
When reached for comment, Narcissa (Black) Malfoy is coldly angry. "My husband is ill," she says. "He had a moment of recovery, but I assure you, he is not at all well. And quite frankly, if he  did find the means to leave my care for a moment, in the current environment, I do not regret that he did so armed."_  
  
The article continued on the inside of the paper, largely quoting those whose lives Lucius had impacted rather negatively. The old paranoid theory that Lucius had been "let off" in a deal with Aunt Narcissa that allowed Uncle Harry to keep Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place--it was based on the idea that Sirius's will couldn't have been legally binding, as he was a convict--resurfaced in several comments. It couldn't have gone better for the plan if Rita had actually been in on it. Teddy, in fact, wasn't convinced that she wasn't; the angle of the photo was from Borgin and Burke's. She'd been attacked by Cresswell as well. Uncle Harry might not have got her involved, but Teddy wasn't entirely convinced that Maurice wouldn't do so and forget to mention it.  
  
It was exactly what they'd anticipated, but Teddy thought of the feather in the alley, of the sense of being watched, and shuddered.  
  
There was a slight thud on the bench next to him, and he turned to find Donzo, a copy of the _Prophet_ in his hands, his face grave. "What's Maurice doing?" he asked.  
  
"Why would I know?"  
  
Donzo didn't bother to answer that. He looked at the article again. "Your godfather seems touchingly worried about Malfoy's safety."  
  
"You know Uncle Harry. He worries about everyone."  
  
"Mm-hmm. Is the damned shop safe? And Maurice in it?"  
  
Teddy nodded. "For no reason whatsoever, I have a lot assurances on that subject."  
  
"I don't understand why he doesn't close it." Donzo sighed. "Wendell could re-open it. They could spend a few years re-inventing it." He shook his head. "Never mind. I do understand."  
  
"You do? Well, I guess, it's for Wendell..."  
  
"It's more than that. He hates that shop, but it's who he is. Maurice Burke-yes-as-in-Borgin-and. I think he'd have kept it open whether Wendell wanted it or not. He wouldn't know who he was, otherwise."  
  
"That's a bit creepy."  
  
Donzo glanced at Dad's wedding ring, on its chain on Teddy's neck, but said nothing.  
  
Classes seemed surreal that week, but oddly easy. There were no missteps. The next Sunday afternoon, he Flooed to Maurice's flat.  
  
Ruthless was there waiting when he got there. "Maurice and I are having a tawdry affair," she informed him. "Ask anyone in the know in Diagon Alley."  
  
"Yeah, sorry, Lupin," Maurice said, coming out of the kitchen with a bowl of grapes. "I couldn't resist."  
  
"Who could?" Ruthless asked dryly.  
  
"Either she seduced me, or I'm looking for someone to cover up my real private life, which presumably exists though I've seen no sign of it," Maurice said. "The gossips haven't decided yet."  
  
Teddy blinked. "Er..."  
  
"It's a joke," Ruthless said. "Well, here, anyway; the gossips really do think so. I'm a loose woman, after all, and he's just short of a Dark Wizard. But it's convenient, as I can come and go as I like, and keep you updated."  
  
"Oh."  
  
She sat down and Summoned a briefcase, from which she pulled out the white peacock feather. It was now protected by a Charmed bubble that glimmered over it. "This," she said, "was picked up outside of the Manor gates. That's the good news--no one has broken the security there."  
  
"I hadn't even thought of that."  
  
"Hmph. Here I was set to dazzle you with my deductive skills, and you weren't even worried." She smiled. "Anyway, they have ivy growing on the outside of the wall, but not the inside, and there was a dead leaf stuck on the back. It was probably caught by the wind and tossed over."  
  
"Good."  
  
"The bad news is that you Disapparated from Wiltshire."  
  
"Yes..."  
  
"You can't follow someone through Disapparition. It's possible that Sam was watching Malfoy Manor and guessed where you'd go, but it's also possible that he's been stalking Knockturn Alley, and someone else saw you go. Someone who then sent him the feather."  
  
"Are you sure it didn't just fall off my cloak?"  
  
"Positive." Maurice took a seat on the sofa and put his feet on a frayed ottoman. "I went back there--"  
  
"You did _what?_ "  
  
"He went back there," Ruthless said. "Very much against Aurors' orders. Harry's livid."  
  
"I saw the feather. I went to check. I didn't go in far, but I saw footprints in the mud. Then whoever it was ran out the back of the alley. Must have been Disillusioned or in a Cloak."  
  
"He was in there _with you_?" Teddy asked. "Are you mad?"  
  
"Apparently so. I had my wand drawn, and I wasn't planning on observing niceties, and I've already had this conversation with Ruthless, Ron Weasley, Hermione Weasley, Harry Potter, and the Minister for Magic." He gave Teddy a curt smile that indicated he had no plans to have it again.  
  
"Hence, the beginning of the Grand Affair," Ruthless said.  
  
"She's babysitting me," Maurice added.  
  
Teddy absorbed this. He felt quite out of things at school, and quite suddenly wished, not that he was out of school, but that they were back. That this was all some elaborate Hogwarts game, and the _Prophet_ was really the _Charmer_ , and the worst that could happen was expulsion. He rubbed his head. "All right. So they're taking the bait. When I go out tonight..." He stopped. "They'll be suspicious if Aunt Narcissa lets me--him--out again."  
  
"We have a lot of defense, you'll have to slip through it..."  
  
"I should let her stop me this time." Teddy reached up and pulled Dad's ring off from around his neck. "I forgot this last time. It's a sure identifier, and I don't really like the idea of people thinking Uncle Lucius would wear it, anyway." He handed it to Ruthless. "Take care of it?"  
  
She nodded, started to put it around her own neck, then put it in her pocket instead.  
  
Teddy gathered himself, then said, "Maurice really does have school work. I need to get him caught up in Defense."  
  
"Clearly," Ruthless said. She got up, gathered her things, and went to the door. "Burke, I'm going to be lurking in the shop. And don't think I can't watch you from there." With that, she left.  
  
Teddy pushed it all away, got out his school books, and started to walk an unwilling Maurice through the detection spells Robards had been working on this week.  
  
He took the convoluted route to the Malfoys that he'd taken previously, through Uncle Harry's place. The Malfoys had been putting on something of a show all week, with Draco Charming his appearance to float by windows as "Lucius" and Aunt Narcissa telling the various reporters and Aurors around the Manor that they needed to go away, as they were only troubling her husband. She agreed immediately that it would be impossible to "sneak out" this week, so they simply put on a pantomime in which Teddy tried to slip out the back, came face to face with a reporter, and was pulled back in by Draco.  
  
"Would you like to stay for supper?" she asked. "You'd have to stay in costume, naturally, in case they're watching..."  
  
"Oh, no thank you."  
  
Aunt Narcissa, who looked significantly healthier this week than she had last, but still tired, nodded. "I suppose I understand. But after this is all over..." She smiled. "I have a great many regrets, Teddy Lupin, but the greatest is shutting out my family."  
  
Teddy wasn't sure what to make of that; she hadn't simply shut Granny out--she and Bellatrix had actively injured her, making it impossible for her to have any children after Mum had been born. But if Granny had forgiven her, Teddy supposed it wasn't his business not to. Still, he didn't care for the oppressive sense of bad memories at Malfoy Manor, and didn't want to spend more time here than was necessary.  
  
Draco, apparently picking up on some of this, smiled faintly. "Once it's over, Mother," he said, "Teddy will need to be at school on Sundays."  
  
"Right," Teddy said.  
  
He let himself be led to Lucius's bedroom, and from there, Flooed back to Uncle Harry's, where James was waiting for him with a fairly well organized plot for the book he wanted to write. Teddy promised to try the first chapter as soon as he got a chance.  
  
"When you catch the Needle's Eye?" James asked, rather morosely. "That's when Dad says we can do everything."  
  
Teddy shook his head. "When I finish my Potions homework. I'll write _something_ tonight. I can't promise it'll be good."  
  
"I can fix it later," James said, smiling.  
  
He did manage to write a few pages that night, and they weren't terrible--it was largely an introduction to their pseudo-Marauders, taking place, on a whim, in a barn that resembled Great-Grandfather McManus's hawk roost. He also wrote to Uncle Harry, telling the owl to deliver it at work, to gently let him know that James felt he was coming in second to a serial killer. Later that week, he had a note from James saying that Uncle Harry had taken the family out to a Muggle film (the Potters tended to relax in Muggle venues in London, as no one knew who they were)--"and we sat in the parlor talking about it for an hour after!"  
  
As March drew toward April, the weeks began to blur into one another. Hogwarts, London, Wiltshire; his face, Lucius's face; Ruthless and Maurice; increasingly long bursts of writing for James, who was turning in much better chapters in return than Teddy had expected; a brief renewal of his romance with Laura, which fizzled just as quickly as it started; classes, flying as a hawk in the moonlight, reading Honoria's pieces on the Ravenclaws. Sometimes, after his outings as Lucius (once the reporters got bored, he was able to make a few more forays), he dreamed of Death Eaters. He put his crystal ball out beside his bed, and the dreams went away, replaced by more pleasant images of Mum and Dad and Sirius. Fred Weasley sometimes made an appearance.  
  
Each week, Ruthless told him what was new. Nothing ever seemed promising, though they were tracking some unpleasant ranters who vandalized the Ministry and several Diagon Alley shops.  
  
Two days before his eighteenth birthday, an owl appeared at breakfast. It was carrying a soft pink envelope--something of a surprise, given that his name was on it in Ruthless's handwriting. The paper inside was the same color.  
  
 _Dear Teddy,_ she wrote, _I borrowed some paper from Lavender Brown, who was in Frankie's office last week (Fifi LaFolle is considering changing publishers, which may signal a crack in the foundation of the universe; you'd best look into it). Anyone who looks over your shoulder will see a mawkish letter fretting about what happened last year--don't worry, nothing_ too _personal, and if you want to read it, just use_ Revelo _. I assure you, it's horrendous and weepy. I got quite drunk before I sat down to write it, because I wanted it to be a convincing cover if anyone happened across it.  
  
The real reason I'm writing is that Maurice has been carefully planting clues for the last two weeks, that Lucius has something of great value to trade. Maurice has gone out of his way to bewail his financial situation, and in the last two days, has made a great fuss about how all will be well Monday morning. I have ears on the ground--Extendable ones, from Weasleys, of course, disguised--and there's been chatter. The message has got through.  
  
Sunday night. We take him down. I will be very close by--don't do anything stupid.  
  
Love (the real sort, not the mawkish pink paper sort),  
Ruthless_

Teddy knew Ruthless well enough to know that she wouldn't have told him how to see through her Charm and read her "cover" letter if she hadn't wanted him to do so. He waited until after his morning classes and went back to his dormitory. She was right--she'd obviously been a bit drunk, and anyone who'd seen even part of it would have looked away quickly, but he read all of it, except for a few places where the ink was too smudged, and she'd obviously cried on it, leaving it illegible.  
  
 _Teddy... It's almost a year now, isn't it? Since I came to you, and you pushed me away. Well, I suppose you didn't, but I felt pushed away. I felt like an idiot, if you want to know the truth. I know you'll never be mine, not really, and_  
  
Here was one of the smudge marks. It obscured the left half of two lines, and when she picked up, she was talking about how she ought to have realized he was too honorable to hurt her as he would have had to, and then there was something about how she ought to have known that Sam _wasn't_ honorable, as he didn't push her away, and...  
  
Teddy got out his quill and wrote her a very short note back:  
  
 _Ruthless,  
I love you and I trust you, and you are worth both. I'll see you soon.  
Always yours (in whatever way we need it to be),  
Teddy_  
  
His birthday fell on Thursday, and Wednesday night, he used Dad's ring, letting it bring him to the memory of the day he'd been born, when they were both happy and at peace. Dad had held him after he was clean and Mum had fed him, and he could feel the small, warm weight that had been himself, and he could feel Dad's heart beating. The fear he'd had through Mum's pregnancy was entirely gone, and, though he couldn't put it into words, Teddy felt a sense of belonging, of being exactly where he was meant to be, of knowing that this was right.  
  
In the portrait the next morning, they had set up a party in the kitchen at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, bringing in bits of other paintings to decorate. Sirius delivered a happy birthday from the Potters, and Phineas Nigellus came down from the Headmistress's office (he pretended disdain for all of it, but as he had to have come willingly, Teddy cheerfully ignored it). Teddy had a feeling that Uncle Harry would have had to remind Sirius, who would have had to come in and set things up in whatever way the portraits did things--they had no particular sense of time passing, after all--but that was all right. He toasted them with a goblet of water, and they sent him down to breakfast.  
  
His friends had got to the Great Hall before him, and he found them at the Gryffindor table, with presents. Neil Overby and Celia Dean gave him a basket of food from the sanctuary in France; the younger Weasley girls--Molly and Marie had actually collaborated, along with Aimee--gave him a set of good office things, to use at work next year. Victoire said she had something for later and whispered that it had to do with _Martian's Mistake_ (it turned out to be a very good framed print of the garden scene, which Teddy decided to hang up next to Mum and Dad's portrait, so they could go outside from time to time). Corky and Honoria gave him a new stand for his crystal ball. The owls brought presents from home, as well--new work clothes from Granny, books from Hermione and Ron (and Bill and Fleur), hand drawn pictures from Al Potter, biscuits from Lily, and a basket of Wheezes from James. Uncle Harry said that they'd get together on Sunday, and he had a present then. Teddy gathered that this would be something related to the case.  
  
Donzo gave him two cubes of condensed Floo powder--the same thing Donzo's father had once given him, to get away from Greyback in the need arose. It had. Teddy frowned.  
  
Donzo raised his eyebrows.  
  
Teddy couldn't very well tell him anything, so he let it drop.  
  
He took a Sleeping Draught on Saturday night to make sure he was rested--there was no way he'd have been able to sleep normally. Sunday morning, he wandered the halls until he found the Fat Friar praying in an empty classroom that had once been a chapel, and asked if he could hear a confession. It was the first time Teddy had done this formally, but it seemed like a good idea, given that he was planning a rendezvous with a killer later. The Friar was delighted at the request, and walked him through the ritual elements of it. He spent the rest of the morning with his friends, at Hagrid's, currying the hippogriffs.  
  
At two o'clock, he gathered the books that would be required for tutoring Maurice, though he didn't think he'd be able muster the concentration to do it, let alone to force Maurice to the task. He Flooed out through Professor Longbottom's office (Professor Longbottom didn't bother pretending not to know that anything was happening; he just said, "Come back to us safely, Teddy"), and landed in Borgin and Burke's, where he found Uncle Harry and Ruthless presumably interrogating Maurice. They both looked up when Teddy slid into the shop.  
  
"Uncle Harry!" Teddy said. "What a surprise."  
  
"He thinks I'm up to Borgin's tricks," Maurice said.  
  
"Well, you've been talking about getting gold."  
  
"I put a flutter on the Harpies game. Your wife said they were sure to win tonight. Was she wrong?"  
  
Uncle Harry rolled his eyes--from a distance, it would look natural, but up close, Teddy could see the stress lines in his face--then looked at Teddy. "I'd have come anyway. Your birthday."  
  
"Oh, right."  
  
"Hope it was happy."  
  
"Yeah, mostly."  
  
Uncle Harry twirled his wand, and a brightly wrapped present appeared. This, however, was cover--as the present spun down in front of Teddy, it was between Uncle Harry and the window. He whispered, _"Muffliato._ " As he spoke, he continued to smile and laugh, like the Muggle game in the box was the subject of the conversation. The others followed his lead. "Listen, Teddy," he said, "we have everything set up, but we can still call it off."  
  
"Like hell," Teddy said, inspecting the gift. "I'm ready to go. I want this son of a bitch."  
  
"I thought you might say that. Your Charmed cloak is in Wiltshire. Maurice will leave a candle in the window if everything seems clear."  
  
"Two if it doesn't!" Maurice exclaimed, making a face at the instructions for the game.  
  
"One good tug," Ruthless said. "That's why I put the charm on the buttons--whether you tug or he does, we'll be there. If you can't move your arms, try to run, so that he'll yank you back."  
  
"All right."  
  
"I won't let anything happen to you," Uncle Harry said. No matter what, you'll be all right."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Outside, something clattered.  
  
Ruthless--maybe a bit too quick on the draw, but not unreasonably--ran out. She came back in, shaking her head. "Cat in the alley," she said. "It knocked over a rubbish bin."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"I saw its tail when it ran away from me."  
  
With that, Uncle Harry and Ruthless left. Teddy and Maurice had to put on some sort of show of studying, and, to Teddy's surprise, they actually got some work done. When he'd finished, he Disapparated to Grimmauld Place, then Flooed to Wiltshire to make the transformation. Granny was there, but to his surprise, didn't try to stop him. She gave him curt instructions to be careful, but helped him into the cloak and held Dad's wedding ring for him.  
  
"You'll pick it up later," she said.  
  
Teddy nodded.  
  
The number of people outside of Malfoy Manor had dwindled over the passing weeks, as people had got used to "Lucius" being out and about, but tonight, probably because of Maurice's rumor-building, there were more curiosity seekers. Teddy had to be careful as he sneaked out of the manor and along the wall. The peacocks were getting used to him, and he fed them a few treats Aunt Narcissa had provided for a realistic view (apparently, Lucius did enjoy feeding them) as he went past. There were neighbors watching the gate from across the road. Teddy stopped on the Manor side and stared at them defiantly.  
  
A young witch screamed, "You're the devil!"  
  
Teddy looked at her coldly, then, in a moment of inspiration, made a crude, aggressive gesture toward the crowd. They stepped back.  
  
He opened the gate, looked at them coldly, and Disapparated.  
  
Back in Knockturn Alley, quite a lot of shopkeepers seemed to have found business to do in their display windows. They watched him pass with avid interest. He could feel their eyes on him. And he knew they were not alone. As he walked he swore that he could see movement from the corner of his eyes--gone when he looked straight on, but there nonetheless. As the shadows grew deeper, the eyes in the shop windows grew less frequent. In fact, when he passed a shop selling what it euphemistically called "human elements" for potions (mainly hair, nails, eyelashes, severed digits, and menstrual blood), the witch tending the display looked at him and seemed entirely oblivious to his presence.  
  
 _He's Hexed the windows_ , Teddy realized. _Hexed them, so they can't see out anymore. That's how he got the others. No one saw them._  
  
He entered an inky spill of darkness between lit windows--again, something seemed to move at the edge of his vision--and suddenly, everything stopped.  
  
His legs lost their strength, and he crumpled to the ground. He reached for the cloak to give it a tug, but his arms were frozen.  
  
From the depth of the darkness, a voice said, "Lucius Malfoy, you're charged with crimes against the wizarding world and everyone in it. It's time for some justice in the world."  
  
Teddy tried to force his legs to move, or his arm, hoping that Cresswell would grab him by the cloak. It felt like he was in a block of ice, except that he could feel every cobblestone pressing into his knees.  
  
A tall pale form appeared from the alley, his eyes crazed in the pale starlight. Cresswell. He was dressed as an executioner. He gingerly took Teddy by the arm, not pulling on him at all.  
  
"Now, we're--"  
  
Something barreled out of the darkness, a small cannonball. Teddy felt a tug on his cloak, and a button fell off entirely. The thing grabbed onto Cresswell's arm, and then all three of them were pulled away, into the dark, into a world where nothing else existed.

The pinched, airless world of mid-Apparition released them, and Teddy felt himself slip out of Cresswell's grasp. They were in an old stone building, with gaps in the walls. Cresswell yowled, and Teddy saw that something large and brown and black was hanging from his arm: a raccoon. Blood was flowing from his wrist.  
  
Teddy saw what would happen only a second before it did, only long enough to yell "Mask!" before Cresswell flung out his arm, dislodging his attacker violently against the wall.  
  
The raccoon fell, and as it did, it lost its shape, grew bigger, became Donzo McCormack. His nose was bleeding and his arm seemed to be at a strange angle, but he drew his wand, pointed it at Teddy and yelled, " _Finite Incantatem!_ " before collapsing onto the floor.  
  
Teddy felt the strength rush back into his arms and legs. Cresswell raised his wand.  
  
Teddy didn't think about it--he transformed, pulling himself up as he did, the world breaking into the sharp, non-Euclidean lines of hawk-sight. He flew at Cresswell, striking out with his talons, grabbing for the wand. It clattered away as Cresswell beat at him blindly, and he grabbed it, flew to a gap in the wall, and tossed it out.  
  
He flew back inside, transforming again as he came close enough to the ground to land nearly on top of Sam Cresswell, knocking him flat.  
  
"You're not Malfoy!"  
  
"Yeah, that was getting old," Teddy said.  
  
Cresswell's arm flashed out like a snake, and Teddy felt something sharp slash across his arm. His hand opened in reflex, and Cygnus Black's wand skittered away. Cresswell stomped on it, shattering it. He ran over to Donzo and stomped on his hand, and Teddy heard both bone and wood crack. Donzo screamed.  
  
Donzo managed to flail his arm out, flipping Cresswell backward. Teddy registered the knife in Cresswell's hand in time to stop it from coming down in a brutal, killing arc, but he couldn't break the murderer's grip on it. Whatever else Cresswell was, he was madly strong, and it took all of Teddy's natural strength to hold onto him.  
  
Cresswell pushed him toward the far wall, where Teddy could see that there were shackles welded to the stone.  
  
"Is this where you killed them?"  
  
"It's where they killed my father!" He laughed wildly. "Don't you recognize it? It's in your family. The old Tonks household. Your grandfather's grandfather built it. I've hidden it, with spells even Potter doesn't know about it. Your grandfather brought them here to be safe from the damned Death Eaters, and you... you come here in the _face_ of one of them. I guess your pure-blood side won out." He grinned a scimitar. "But maybe we can clear all that out of you. See if you have enough of your grandfather's blood to keep breathing when I've drained out the rest." He leaned closer. "And then, while your godfather is distracted by your corpse, I'll pay a visit to the real Malfoys. And whoever happens to be in the house with them."  
  
Teddy went cold. Granny had been at the Malfoys nearly every time he'd gone, nursing Narcissa back to health and trying to rebuild a long-severed tie.  He tried to stall.  "Where is everyone else?"

"Everyone else?"

"Your family.  Whoever else has been hiding you."

He laughed.  "Oh, they'll come out of the shadows when it's time.  I always make sure they're away when I  have a sentence to enact--wouldn't want them to get into trouble with the quislings--but trust me.  They'll come around.  "The quislings will catch me," he said lightly. "I know that. But I can do a lot of justice before they do."  
  
Teddy shoved back with all of his remaining strength. The gash in his arm where Cresswell had already cut him was draining his energy more than Cresswell's was being drained by Donzo's bite, but the floor was uneven, and Cresswell teetered on the edge of a plank and fell backward, nearly on top of Donzo. The knife hit the wall and clattered away.  
  
"Donzo," Teddy said. "Can you hear me?"  
  
"Yeah..." His voice was weak with shock. "I can..."  
  
"Can you reach the buttons on my cloak?"  
  
"What...?"  
  
"Just grab one. Pull. Hard."  
  
Cresswell tried to throw Teddy off, but Teddy held on grimly.  
  
Donzo's good hand came up, and Teddy felt it weakly snag on a button. He jerked to one side, and the button tugged, just a little bit, before it slid from beneath Donzo's finger's.  
  
There was a series of pops, and a swirl of red cloth. Ruthless jabbed her wand forward, and Cresswell flew back against the wall.  
  
"What's this? How...?"  
  
"Your damned concealing spells can be broken from _inside_ of them," she said, and the shackles he'd used on his victims flew up and bound him.  
  
Teddy felt a hand on his arm, then a bandage wound itself around his cut. Uncle Harry crouched beside him. "We got to the alley fast enough to see you disappear. I thought--"  
  
"I'm all right," Teddy said, and pointed. "But Donzo..."  
  
"We're taking you both to St. Mungo's. Ron?"  
  
Ron appeared at his side. "You want me to process this piece of rubbish?"  
  
"You, Williams, Goldstein. No less than three on him until he's locked up."  
  
"What about me?" Ruthless asked.  
  
"Help me take statements."  
  
"But--"  
  
"Ruth, that's an order."  
  
From his place shackled to the wall, Cresswell shouted, "They're illegal Animagi, both of them!"  
  
"We'll see to it that they pay a hefty fine," Ruthless said dryly.  
  
"You won't do a thing, you whore, and you know it. Hell, you'll probably have them transform just so you can--"  
  
She jabbed her wand at him, and he fell mercifully silent. Ron and the other two Aurors Uncle Harry had assigned pulled the chains from the wall, and a moment later, they were gone.  
  
There was another pop, and Granny appeared, carrying her Healer's bag. She looked around, wide-eyed. "This place... how could I forget... Ted died here..."  
  
"It's a spell Sam invented," Ruthless said bitterly. "Partly a distraction spell, partly a concealing spell--it makes a place invisible to the memory. Concealing things was his specialty."  
  
"Granny," Teddy said. "Donzo. His hand."  
  
"We have to get them to St. Mungo's," Uncle Harry repeated.  
  
"I'm Healing the breaks before we move him," Granny told him, kneeling down. "Don't worry, Don. I know this is your chord hand. I won't let it get jostled anymore, and we'll get it Healed."  
  
Donzo passed out when she touched it to reset the bones. She managed to get the major breaks Healed, examined her work, then decided he could be--carefully--moved. She took him by Side-Along Apparition.  
  
Uncle Harry frowned. "Is this it?" He looked to Teddy. "You didn't think he was alone."  
  
"He was the only one here."  
  
"Where are his brother and his mother?"  
  
Teddy blinked. "I don't know.  He said he sends everyone away when he kills."  
  
Ruthless glared at the knife on the floor. "Someone's looking after them for him. Somewhere else. Someone who knew what he'd done and didn't care."  
  
Uncle Harry nodded. "We should get to St. Mungo's," he said, and Disapparated. Teddy and Ruthless followed.  
  
Maurice was at the hospital already when they got there. His face was white as he looked on at the team of Healers working on the finer points of Donzo's hand--the muscles and ligaments and whatever else was in there to have been shredded by the sharply broken bones. He glanced at Teddy, Ruthless, and Uncle Harry as they came around. "It wasn't meant to go like this," he said.  
  
"They'll get him Healed," Ruthless promised.  
  
"If he hadn't come, Cresswell would have killed me," Teddy said.  
  
"And on that note," Ruthless told him, "I think I'd best do my job and get your statement."  
  
Teddy spent the next ten minutes telling her what had happened after Sam had pulled them all away from Knockturn Alley. It seemed longer in the re-telling than it had happening.  
  
She nodded, transcribed his answer, and had him sign the statement. "I'll wait for McCormack's." She ground her teeth. "I thought that might be him in the alley. I haven't seen a lot of striped-tail cats. I should have just brought him into it."  
  
Teddy shook his head. "He wouldn't have let you. Cresswell was obviously watching the shop. He'd have noticed you having a conversation with a raccoon, I think, and then he'd have lost the element of surprise, and we'd both be dead."  
  
Abruptly, Ruthless put her hands to her face and began to sob. She didn't cry often, and didn't do it gracefully. It came out in huge, braying howls.  
  
Teddy put his arms around her. "It's all right."  
  
"I could've killed you both."  
  
" _Cresswell_ could have."  
  
"It was my idea! And I should have known before and I should have stopped him and I should have stabbed him in his sleep..."  
  
Teddy held her and patted her hair while she cried.  
  
It finally faded off to hitching breaths, and she pulled away. "Sorry, I--"  
  
"It's all right," Teddy said.  
  
"Ahem."  
  
Teddy looked up over Ruthless's curls. Donzo, Uncle Harry, Maurice, Granny, and Aunt Narcissa were all gathered. Donzo's hand was enmeshed in a stabilizing spell.  
  
"Er," Teddy said. "I think I lost the wand."  
  
Aunt Narcissa nodded. "Then I'm very glad it wasn't your mother's you were carrying."  
  
"You're not to let him play the guitar for three weeks," Maurice said, looking at Donzo's hand. "If he does, he might not play again at all."  
  
Ruthless wiped her face vicious and turned around. "Sorry, McCormack. I--"  
  
"I had absolutely no one's go ahead," Donzo said. "I just rode Dapple off school grounds and made some guesses."  
  
"I'm glad you did," Teddy said. "Though we may have to face the terrible, unheard of consequences of our illegal magic."  
  
Uncle Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, I think we can let the Animagus bit go. I'll arrange something--"  
  
"No," Granny said.  
  
Teddy looked up. She, Aunt Narcissa, and Maurice all looked horrified. "What is it?" he asked.  
  
"Whatever you'd normally do," she said to Uncle Harry, "do it. It can't be _that_ horrible."  
  
"Well, it's a fairly large fine, or two weeks in Azkaban, which is ridiculous, but every time I try to change it, they accuse me of playing favorites about which crimes matter, and--"  
  
"Teddy has money, and so do I. We'll pay the fine."  
  
"Andromeda..."  
  
"Harry, _think_. This isn't over. You can't bend the rules right now." She shook her head at the uncomprehending stares she was getting. "The _trial,_ Harry. There's going to be a trial, and Cresswell is going to turn it into a three ring circus. Don't provide him with an extra act."


	22. By A Thread (3): The Ravenclaws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honoria continues her series, introducing the remaining four Ravenclaws in the Smallest Year.

Volume 7, Issue 22

| 

_4 March 2016_  
  
---|---  
  
**By A Thread**

  
**Connie Deverill: The Keeper's Save**  
Part 10 of 16

"My name is Constance Olivia," Connie Deverill says. "Constance is for my aunt, who died fighting off Death Eaters so my mother could get away. Olivia is for Oliver Wood, and if you want my opinion, I oughtn't be the only Olivia running about just now. They really ought to be as thick on the ground as Harriets. Wait, I don't know any Harriets, either. We're really quite uncreative about that sort of thing, when you think about it."   
  
A cheerfully pretty girl whose many braids are usually finished off with multicolored beads, the murderous days of Voldemort are the last thing one is likely to think of upon meeting her, but Connie, like year-mate Brendan Lynch, is a veteran of Quidditch star Oliver Wood's "Quidditch network"--a loosely affiliated rescue group made up of Wood's international contacts in the game. Over the course of the war's final, horrible year, the network rescued at least a dozen Muggle-borns, half-bloods, and so called "blood traitors" from the Death Eaters, as often as not under the nose of Voldemort and his puppet government.  
  
"Oliver's an intense Quidditch player," Connie said, "but he always made friends. He's a good bloke. My dad was his team manager at the time, and they were friends. Dad said Oliver was usually there before the pitch opened, just waiting to go up in the air. So Dad started coming early to let him in, and they got to doing practice shots--Dad playing at being a Chaser while Oliver played Keeper--and, by the time the Ministry fell, they were quite close."  
  
Connie's father, Philbert Deverill, was the manager of the Puddlemere United Team, where Wood was first recruited for the reserves. He was also a Muggle-born, and, as such, too successful in a magical field for the Death Eaters to tolerate for any length of time. His wife, Temperance Tinkham, had, at the time, been part of a successful comedy show on the Wizarding Wireless called Raw Magic that tweaked the noses of--among others--Lucius Malfoy, Walden Macnair, and Severus Snape (then posing convincingly, one must recall, as a Death Eater). Most unfortunately for the Deverill family, Temperance herself had been the member of the troupe tasked with playing the part of Bellatrix Lestrange, whom she portrayed as a simpering, hyper-sexed fool. As might be imagined, this was not well received by the new government, which had little taste for any of the arts, and no tolerance for mockery of its own leaders. Temperance went into hiding at the home of Constance Tinkham, her older sister, when the Ministry fell, but all three knew that it was impermanent.   
  
Meanwhile, Oliver Wood insisted that the team continue to play, and, inexplicably, that Philbert Deverill remain with them. While he took criticism for this, even being accused of playing Nero's role by some members of the opposition, in fact, it gave him the cover he needed. The more dangerous members of the government saw him as a harmless sports fanatic, and never suspected that he was using the Quidditch matches--so carefully engineered to show a normal face to the international community--to work his large network, and start creating escape hatches. Philbert Deverill's was one of the first. Simon Bar-Ilan, owner of the Israeli national team and a friendly rival of Wood's, abruptly started making offers to Deverill, claiming he was desperately needed in Tel Aviv, offering to bring over his whole family, and several of their friends, if that was what it took to get him there. The government couldn't publicly fight this offer, and plans were made for Deverill, Temperance, and Constance to leave together. Alas, Belletrix Lestrange, less concerned with the international image of the Ministry, attacked the Tinkham household the night before they were to leave, and Temperance Tinkham barely escaped. Constance was killed as she fought for every inch, finally forcing her sister out through the Floo network, into the Department of Sports and Games. From there, the Israelis escorted Connie Deverill's parents out of the country, and it was in Tel Aviv that she was born ten months later. Oliver Wood was named her godfather.  
  
"And he just kept doing it," Connie says. "Israel, Bulgaria, Hong Kong, India, the States"--she laughs--"though he still jokes that the Los Angeles Freeways didn't know they were in on a rescue mission--they were just so bad at the time that they really did risk an international incident to get a competent player." She shakes her head fondly. "He kept going until Dawlish finally twigged to the game and shut down the matches, and then anyone who'd been caught helping had to go into hiding. He's a real hero, not just a Quidditch star."  
  
Wood himself dismisses this. "I know real heroes," he says. "I had one playing Seeker on my team at Hogwarts for three years. I'm just a Keeper who kept the other team from scoring while the real heroes won the war. I'm happy to be a Quidditch star. And come to think of it, now that I'm managing the Tornadoes, I could use a good Seeker, and I know just which one I want..."  
  
Connie herself is, in her own words, "complete rubbish" on the Quidditch pitch. "I tried out second year," she says, "but I think I might have been sitting backward on the broom, and I mistook a Bludger for a Quaffle. It wasn't pretty." (This is an exaggeration, of course.  She played respectably for one year before choosing not to continue.)  
  
She seems, instead, to have inherited her mother's comic skills, and is known in the Ravenclaw Common Room for her gently chiding impersonations of classmates and teachers. Even Professor Flitwick is amused by her interpretation of his teaching style, and on one April Fool's Day, arranged to have her sit at the Head Table playing the part, and refusing to acknowledge teachers who questioned it.  
  
"My mum doesn't joke much anymore," Connie says, "so I have to do it for both of us, really. And I like making people laugh. Maybe I'll see about putting the old troupe together. I can't see much else to do with my highly useful N.E.W.T.s in Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies." She is, in point of fact, taking four N.E.W.T.s, including a highly useful Defense N.E.W.T., but she prefers to stress what she calls her Quirky Quotient. "In our year, we're all Defense experts. I'm much less interested in how vampires are actually handled than how Muggle novels and television shows think they are. As far as I can tell, it involves kissing, stakes, garlic, and quite a lot of bad poetry. Much more interesting than our version. That's actually my final paper--perceptions of magic in the Muggle arts. Basically, it means I get to spend my holidays at my grandparents' watching old television programmes for hours." She winks. "So I'm smarter than I seem, eh?"

 

* * *

Volume 7, Issue 23

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_11 March 2016_  
  
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**By A Thread**  
  
 **Lizzie Richardson: Fitting Justice**  
Part 11 of 16

It would, perhaps, be forgivable for an observer to think that the race for top marks in the smallest year was a two-way affair, between Donzo McCormack and Teddy Lupin. After all, the person in the class whose marks really are at the top of the year--and have been since the beginning--simply rolls her eyes at the entire affair.  
  
"Of course my marks are higher," Lizzie Richardson says. "From time to time, I actually do the assignments that are actually assigned, instead of making them up so they mean what I want them to mean. And I had three extra credit projects, rather than a plan to cure a plague or start a world-wide dance craze. It may not make the _Prophet_ , but I won." She grins. A thin girl with straight, pale red hair, Lizzie isn't a stand-out in the room. She jokes that she can be in a place for a month before anyone happens to see her there. "It's all right, though. I see people with more exciting lives, and it seems a little stressful." Despite her joking, Richardson is on good terms with both boys she "won" over. "We understand each other well enough, as long as we aren't trying to go out with one another"--she shudders--"and I guarantee I'd have been less attentive without them pushing me to work harder."  
  
With her marks, Lizzie could follow nearly any career path, but she chose early on to pursue a life at the Ministry's department of Magical Law Enforcement. "Not as an Auror," she explains, "but acting as an advocate for the accused. One of the most important things Hermione Weasley has done has been creating a fairer system of trials, and I've wanted to be a part of that for as long as I can remember. The accused always need an advocate."  
  
Even the guilty?  
  
"The guilty most of all," she says. "It may not be popular, but even the guilty deserve a defense. There's nearly always some reason behind it all." Perhaps thinking of Sam Cresswell, currently a fugitive from justice after several brutal murders, she amends, "Not that I think they oughtn't pay for their crimes, of course. But if there's no defense for the guilty, then there's no real defense for the innocent. I want to bring our laws in line with the laws of the Muggle world, which surpassed us a long time ago on things like this."  
  
Is Lizzie Richardson part of the growing movement of students who feel the wizarding world is in need of a revolution? She insists that she is not. "Revolution is a very total matter," she says. "I favor some reforms, maybe even some of the same ones that other members of my House favor"--here, she refers to Geoffrey Phillips, the often combative would-be reformer--"but I know that things like that take time, and you can't force them on people, not if they're going to stick." She wrinkles her nose. "Besides, we just had one total war. I was too young to really see it, but my parents remember it, and I don't want another."

Lizzie's mother, Sylvia (Twilfit) Richardson, was the chief robemaker at Twilfit and Tattings (London) before the war started bleeding away business. Her father, half-blood businessman Steven Richardson, closed the shop when Voldemort's government demanded that they provide high level officials with clothing at less than the value of the materials, let alone the labor. "There were threats," Lizzie says, "that Daddy's blood status was going to be called into question if he didn't agree to it. So he closed the shop and we moved in with Mum's brother in New York. Mum was quite pregnant at the time. I was born in the sample room in New Jersey, because Mum just kept sewing, since she thought she was paying our keep. Uncle Jack says I spoiled an entire pile of remnants, but it was all right."  
  
Like many in the smallest year, Lizzie had no idea before reaching Hogwarts just how deeply the war had touched her. "We stayed in America when I was small. I had friends. Other witches to play on toy broomsticks with, little wizards to pretend to brew love potions for. Mum knew that other people had need to run, but we never made anything of being the only war refugees who happened on New York. We just assumed that everyone else thought the ties between London and New York were too strong, and went elsewhere. Daddy thought it might be a little smaller than usual, but I don't think he imagined fewer than thirty, let alone fewer than twenty. When we were standing there by the lake--you remember. Those little boats, just four of them, waiting for us, and the whole lake in front of us. For a few seconds, I could barely breathe."  
  
But being part of the small, forcibly close-knit group that crossed the water that night has affected her, she says. "Of course it has! It's not just the individual people in it--though, like I said, the fact that there are two frighteningly bright boys has really pushed me--but that idea that we were all there was, that we were alone to sink or swim together... I don't think any of us know yet how much that's mattered. We know it has. There's no other year that goes back and forth among Houses and years more freely than we have. But what will it mean in the long run, when we're out in the world? I know a lot of adults reading this at home will say, 'Oh, how sweet, they think their school shape will last forever; they'll learn soon enough that it's just not as important as they imagine.' But I think that they're the ones who'll be surprised. It's not just having particular friends. It's about..." She sighs. "It's about how we imagine the world. I've spent enough time wandering down to Slytherin, or chatting with people in different years, that I can't see ever hesitating to cross the hall and work with another department, or worrying about the seniority of anyone I happen to talk to in the course of my life. It may get me into trouble, but I really never developed the habit of thinking of such things, and that's because our year is what it is."

* * *

Volume 7, Issue 23

| 

_18 March 2016_  
  
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**By A Thread**  
  
 **Franklin Driscoll: Flying High**  
Part 12 of 16

 

"Look familiar?" Franklin Driscoll asks, pointing at the Muggle aeroplanes flying above, with red and blue smoke trailing into the cloudy sky. He smiles, obviously glad to have a wizarding visitor during his Christmas holidays, and even more glad to brag about his mother, who is flying one the planes. "That's the formation the Ravenclaw team used for our victory lap after we won the Cup last year. I taught it to Mum, and she taught it them." He points again.  
  
Once pointed out, the resemblance is obvious, and Franklin has a right to be proud. His mother, Bianca Driscoll, a former pilot in the Royal Air Force, is now a member of a successful show flight team. His father Liam--also beaming with pride at the show--is her chief mechanic (this is a profession involved in the maintenance of Muggle machinery). "Pretty, innit?" he asks, sparing only a brief glance over his shoulder before turning his face up to watch again.  
  
It is, indeed, an impressive show, but a loud one, and further conversation isn't possible until the return to Hogwarts.  
  
"Sorry," Franklin says. "I didn't mean to drag you out there, but I never had much chance to bring anyone from, you know, Hogwarts. Reckoned you might think it was interesting. And besides, you did tell me first year that you didn't understand what I was talking about and I ought to expli-i-i-ne." He winks. The ancient grudge thus assuaged, he settles comfortably into a study nook he's created for himself in the library, in the midst of the (largely unused) history stacks. "I've got to show off my mum now and then, don't I?"  
  
Since his first year, when he arrived as an undersized boy with an accent he hid by barely speaking (until the day he picked up a broomstick for the first time and flew beautifully), Franklin has grown in confidence, and is even considered cocky by sixth year Ravenclaw Quidditch captain Jemima Sutcliffe. "So he can catch a Snitch," she sniffs. "He ought to be able to, given that he relaxes for hours while the rest of us actually play the game."  
  
The prickly rivalry between the two has been exacerbated by Driscoll's group of loyal Ravenclaw fans, including alumni who routinely return to Hogwarts for his games, and Quidditch professionals who have been courting him since fifth year. When Sutcliffe was named captain after Rowena Corner left school two years ago, many of these influential fans were incensed. (Newlin Brice, captain of the Caerphilly Catapults, infamously wrote an editorial accusing Professor Flitwick of "clear senility," which Ginevra Potter called an example of "Quidditch psychosis," advising Brice in her monthly column to "get [his] head on straight before it blows away in a strong wind.") Franklin himself considers it a good choice. "I was angry at first," he said, "but the more I thought about it, the more I think Professor Flitwick made the right call. I like to do my bit, and play with the audience. I don't reckon I'd like setting up strategies and scheduling the pitch for practices and so on. Jemmy can have it."  
  
As to his increasing confidence, he doesn't credit it to Quidditch. "Are you kidding? Quidditch is where I can just relax. I've spent the last six and a half years living in a dormitory between Donzo McCormack and Geoff Phillips... it was either grow a backbone or give up and disappear!"  
  
Franklin refers to the well-known--and uncomfortable--dislike between his two dormitory mates, because he has often been caught between them. "They're both my friends, if you want the truth," he says. "Not my best mates, but my friends, anyway. So I'm always the one that gets, 'Get him to shut his trap,' and 'Tell him to cut that out.' It's worse than my little twin sisters sometimes, and they're nine. Quidditch drama's a holiday."  
  
So, why play along?  
  
"Peace in the house," Franklin says, with a shrug. "I don't care a fig about politics, but I have to go home to both of them. It's just logic to keep the place running without any major duels." He thinks. "Would you call it major when the wardrobes started throwing hangers at one another?"  
  
As politics have come up, the subject of reform, so prominent this year, naturally arises. Franklin wrinkles his nose. "Do we have to?" He sighs. "All right. Yeah, I know what the lot of them mean. Reckon anyone who's been called a chav and had websites up making fun of everyone who wears a Burberry cap [note: Apparently, a Muggle fashion associated with a particular social class-HH] and comes from the wrong town doesn't have the least problem understanding when people talk about class conflicts. But I got better things to do with my time. Games. Homework. Detentions. Root canal. Cleaning the sewer with my bare hands and no magic. Why would I want to get mixed up with that mess if I'm not forced into it? That's why I dropped History of Magic. I actually like history, and Binns isn't as bad as people say. But I decided to drop it as soon as I had a choice, even though I had an O on my O.W.L. I can read if I want to know more. I don't have to listen to that rot in every class."  
  
If Quidditch falls through--always a possibility in an injury-plagued sport--what are Franklin's plans?  
  
"I've Defense and Potions and Charms, and connections with sports. They still need people in the Ministry in that Division; I hope I could land there, if I fell."

* * *

Volume 7, Issue 24

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_25 March 2016_  
  
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**By A Thread**  
  
 **Geoffrey Phillips: The Fundamental Problem**  
Part 13 of 16

Geoffrey Phillips sits down in the empty classroom, his posture wary, his eyes narrowed, his arms crossed protectively over his thin chest (until fifth year, he was rather stocky, and often seems uncomfortable in his new, smaller body). He straightens his back and says, "I suppose you want to talk about the shirt."  
  
"The shirt"--the popular red "Revolution" tee shirt which Geoffrey has been selling all year, which depicts a cockroach impaled by a needle, invoking the Needle's Eye murders--is the first thing one notices about him. He wears it frequently, though he's received detention for it several times. Today, he is wearing a new copy, bright red with crisp printing. It has caused a good deal of consternation among both students and teachers since he brought it in September. Is he actually offering support for a serial murderer?  
  
Geoffrey emphatically denies this. "Cresswell is mad, and an idiot, and what he's done has been, at the very best interpretation, counter-productive."  
  
Evil?  
  
He scoffs at this notion. "Good and evil are absolute ideas that don't exist in the real world. I'd agree to 'wrong.' And cruel." He looks out the window at a rainy March day. "I might even agree to 'offensive.' And before you ask, of course the shirt is offensive. It's meant to be offensive. There are times you need to do something that shocks people out of their complacency. I created the shirt because wandering about waxing philosophical about how we have never solved the problems that were the root causes of the war isn't effective. This is. People are talking--mad and cruel psychopaths aren't the only ones who feel that justice has never really been done. It's a problem, and we need to talk about it. We can't afford to back away from it, or Sam Cresswell won't be the last to snap and take matters into his own hands."   
  
He stops, apparently waiting to be cut off. When he is not, he stands up and goes to the window.  
  
"The fundamental problem," he says, "is that we've cleaned up enough cosmetically that a lot of people think we're done. But without a real re-aligning of the government, a true revolution, we'll wind up where we were. The problem we had during the recent war wasn't Tom Riddle, any more than our current problem is Sam Cresswell. Both of these men are monsters we created for ourselves, through an inept and antiquated system of government that let them slip through the cracks, let their rage fester because they were taught to cover it up. As long as we live in a world with the kind of rigid secrecy that we promote, we're going to be divided into classes of people who were aware of their power early, and those who enter late, as outsiders. The latter are expected to simply assimilate. I refuse to do so. This culture we live in--the same culture that allowed itself to be overtaken by fascists only eighteen years ago--isn't something I choose to celebrate. It inculcates the notion of superiority over Muggles simply by denying them knowledge of its existence, leaving them blind to parts of nature, and even, on occasion, forcibly blinding them to those parts."  
  
This philosophy has its seed in the various world-wide movements against the Statute of Secrecy, which have flared up in many places since the middle of the past century. Geoffrey dismisses the common argument against this, that Muggles are freer to conduct their own business without knowing certain problems could be solved with magic, by pointing out that wizards do in fact share the world. "Why shouldn't we solve environmental problems with magic? Simply because we've made a high-handed decision that Muggles caused a problem, and therefore it belongs to them and we shouldn't offer our assistance?"  
  
But Geoffrey insists that he has no plans to violate the Statute at the moment. "I have other priorities. The culture on the inside has to change before we can be of any use on the outside. At the moment, the Muggles could help us more than we could help them. And that's saying quite a bit, as that world's a huge mess itself."  
  
Does he plan a career in the Ministry, trying to implement the changes he desires?  
  
"Trying to change things from the inside is a ridiculous idea. The place will change the person more than the person will change the place. Look at Hermione Granger--a brilliant Muggle-born girl who has settled for working within the Ministry, and is reduced to introducing piecemeal legislation to accomplish tiny goals. I have no interest in that. The Ministry won't change until the people rise up as one and say, 'We have had enough.' So I plan to take my case to the people. They're already angry. It just needs to be focused."  
  
Taking it to the people is a skill Geoffrey has been honing here at the _Charmer_ , in his frequent editorials. He plans to expand his experience at Hogwarts into a book of collected columns and new thoughts. "I think I'll call it _Get Out of My Mud-bloody Way_ ," he says with a smirk. "Should tweak all the right noses, anyway. And like I said... shock value. It'll get people talking."  
  
Geoffrey says that he got his thirst for justice from his parents, both professors of economics at University College London. "They met at protests," he said. "As I understand it, the first time they met was when Mum was hit by a policeman, and Dad cleaned her up." He shrugs. "They always had friends over, and we'd talk about the great ideas over dinner with them. If I made an argument, I had to have footnotes, and they had to be from a good source. It was fun." He gives a rare, genuine smile. "Though that may be something only my House would find amusing." He shakes his head. "I can't believe I've fallen into that tripe, but I have--I do enjoy Ravenclaw culture, middling popular music aside. If the world were the Ravenclaw Common Room, I might well be too distracted by its pleasures to worry about anything else."


	23. Fame and Fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy and Donzo have to answer for the their illegal Animagus studies, and the publicity about it brings one of Remus's creditors out of the woodwork, demanding gold she believes herself owed.

Teddy and Donzo were called before the Wizengamot on the first weekday of Easter hols, eight days after the capture of Sam Cresswell. The case against him was still being prepared, or so the argument went; Teddy privately suspected that Granny had convinced Uncle Harry that it would be wise to get this part properly squared away _before_ Sam could make use of it. It wouldn't mitigate his guilt at all to accuse Uncle Harry of playing favorites, but it would give him a very large opportunity to spread his venom around.  
  
The story had hit the _Prophet_ immediately, complete with a report of Teddy and Donzo's illegal magic, and, while a few people had made snide suggestions that they'd be "let off," most had thought the charge ridiculous in the extreme, in light of the assistance with the capture of a murderer. _I don't care how close either of them is to Harry Potter_ , a witch on the Isle of Man had written, _if Harry Potter declined to prosecute at all, it would still only be because the charge is a waste of anyone's time and gold._  
  
On the afternoon of the hearing, Teddy met Donzo at the Ministry. A crowd had gathered in the lobby, some of them reporters, some just onlookers. One woman had made a sign that showed them flying away (she seemed not to have a clear understanding of what a raccoon was, judging by the hand-drawn picture). Another was wearing one of Donzo's concert tee shirts, and yelled, "I'll go in your place!"  
  
"Er, not... er..." Donzo stuttered, then broke into his concert persona and said blithely. "I love you too, but let's face it, I did commit the crime! I probably ought to take the punishment myself." He winked at her.  
  
She sighed blissfully.  
  
In the back were protestors from the other side--a mercifully small, but unpleasant looking, group. They had signs with needles on them (the same design as Geoff's tee shirt, so Teddy guessed he'd designed them as well, since they'd obviously not been hand-drawn), and were chanting, "Hey, Hey, Harry Potter--gives justice for some but not for others!"  
  
"Given the circumstances," Teddy said quietly to Donzo, "I was half expecting them to actually say 'otters.'"  
  
"Lousy rhythm, either way."  
  
"One-two-three-four... let them know we're keeping score!"  
  
"Don't listen them," an old woman advised Teddy. "They're mad."  
  
"Two-four-six-eight... We know Potter's godson is going to skate."  
  
A group of girls near the front, all wearing Donzo's tee shirts, who had been scribbling on a bit of a scroll, turned around and shouted, "One, three, five, seven... you lot are too stupid to count to eleven!"  
  
The lift doors opened, and Anthony Goldstein came out. He didn't engage any of the crowd, and took Donzo and Teddy by the arms back to the lift.  
  
"Has it been like this all day?" Teddy asked.  
  
"Since before any of us got in this morning. Don't worry about it. We were expecting it." Goldstein told the lift to take them to the Department of Mysteries. "There'll be a few at the hearing--it's public--but they'll be under strict instructions to stay quiet, and anyone who isn't can be asked to leave."  
  
The doors to the lift opened in the bowels of the Ministry. Maddie and Croaker were standing in the corridor, looking solemn, and it occurred to Teddy that he might be endangering his apprenticeship with the Ministry by breaking the law. Maddie caught the look on his face and shook her head rapidly--indicating, he hoped, that he needn't worry.  
  
Goldstein led them into the hearing chamber, where two chairs had been set up in front of the rows of seats, where the Wizengamot was seated. Teddy could see Hermione Weasley in the first row, in dark plum robes with gold trim. Kingsley Shacklebolt sat at the front, in the center. Beside him was Percy Weasley. They both looked like they were suffering from bad headaches. Uncle Harry and Ron were sitting in the third row, looking gaunt.  
  
In the gallery, Teddy could see more handmade signs, most expressing the idea that Teddy and Donzo were heroes for catching Cresswell and oughtn't be charged with petty crimes; a few with less friendly slogans. They were all quiet.  
  
Teddy sat down in the chair that had been indicated for him; to his relief, no chains came up to bind him.  
  
Kingsley looked to his left, where a young woman with a quill was biting her lip nervously, glancing at Teddy with apologetic nervousness. It took him a moment to recognize her as Priya Patil, who had been a seventh year prefect when he himself had been a first year. Two years ago, she'd been working for the _Prophet_ ; apparently, it hadn't worked out. She scribbled as Kingsley spoke.  
  
"Criminal hearing on the twenty-sixth of April into offenses against the Animagus Registration Act by Ted Remus Lupin and Donald Jubal McCormack Duke, of Buckinghamshire and Nottinghamshire, respectively. Interrogators: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic; Hermione Jean Weasley, Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Percy Ignatius Weasley, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister; Court Scribe: Priya Dyumna Trimble. Witness for the prosecution, to be read into the record: Samuel Cresswell."  
  
In the gallery, someone yelled, "You've framed him!" but this fell into silence, and, after a moment of staring from Kingsley, the list resumed.  
  
"Witness for the defense: Minerva Grizelda McGonagall."  
  
The doors opened again, and a chair appeared. Professor McGonagall took a seat in it.  
  
Kingsley waited for them to settle, then said, "Will the defendants state their names for the record?"  
  
Teddy squared his shoulders and said, "Ted Remus Lupin," and Donzo gave his own name.  
  
"Very well. The following is the accusation against you, from Samuel Cresswell, currently incarcerated at Azkaban and therefore unable to testify." Priya handed him a scroll and he opened it to read. "'During the course of an illegal entrapment,'" Cresswell had written, "'both Lupin and McCormack transformed into animals using a classic Animagus spell. McCormack transformed into a small mammal and physically attacked me, and Lupin transformed into a bird of prey, stealing my wand and any means of defense I had.'" Kingsley looked up. "How do you respond to these charges?"  
  
"The, er... entrapment wasn't illegal," Teddy said, and looked at Uncle Harry. "As I'm sure the Aurors will explain at Mr. Cresswell's trial, I was working with the Division officially, in a legal plan to capture a known murderer. Donzo--Mr. McCormack--intervened voluntarily, just to help me. He wasn't involved in the plan. We, er... we did use the Animagus spell, which we'd been studying for quite a long time."  
  
"And you were aware that such studies are prohibited by law?"  
  
"Not technically," Donzo said. "Achieving the transformation is, but studying--"  
  
Kingsley held up his hand. "I think, Mr. McCormack Duke, that it's fairly clear you've gone beyond studies."  
  
Donzo fell silent.  
  
"Do you both concede that you have achieved the Animagus transformation and illegally failed to register?"  
  
They both gave a sheepish, "Yes."  
  
"Very well. Professor McGonagall, you wished to speak in defense of the action?"  
  
Professor McGonagall stood up, leaning on her walking stick. "Minister Shacklebolt," she said, "and members of the Wizengamot. For ten years, I have been the only registered Animagus remaining in Britain, and as such, I have been responsible for all applications to register. I have not been overwhelmed with work in this matter." There was a soft laugh around the room. She went on. "I have worked with six students, none of whom have mastered the transformation. Nor did I master it under tutelage from a stranger--I learned it myself, as part of the war effort during our conflict with Gellert Grindelwald, much as Mr. Lupin's elder cousin, Sirius Black, mastered it illegally in his effort to support the members of the Order of the Phoenix during our first conflict with Tom Riddle." (Teddy noticed how carefully she phrased this--Sirius had not, of course, learned this to help fight Voldemort, but to support Dad during his lycanthropic shifts... but then, Dad would become a member of the Order, and therefore, what she said was true.) "I would argue," she added, "that our entire approach to this has been misguided. The spell is personal, and not easily learned from a mentor. Mr. Lupin and Mr. McCormack Duke mastered it in the only way I have ever truly seen it mastered."  
  
"And then failed to register," Kingsley pointed out.  
  
"To the great benefit of society," Professor McGonagall said dryly, "as, had they been known Animagi, there would have been no surprise, and a murderer would still be running free."  
  
"So you would argue that the law requiring registration is questionable?"  
  
"Questionable, perhaps, but not always wrong. While the illegal secrecy of the transformation saved the life of Sirius Black, and has now saved Ted Lupin, I would also take into consideration that it allowed the escape of Peter Pettigrew, and I believe that neither of those lives would have needed to _be_ saved, had we apprehended Mr. Pettigrew at the time of his crime. Individual cases must be examined on their merits."

"And  how would you propose the spell is regulated?"

"Let people come to it on their own, but if it is misused, it would become a crime -- rather like brewing certain potions is not prohibited or regulated, but if those potions are administered to another without consent, then it becomes a crime."   
  
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall. Are there other witnesses in this matter?"  
  
There were not. It was, after all, fairly straightforward.  
  
Teddy and Donzo were asked to transform, and did so, then ordered to register regardless of the verdict. Ultimately, they were fined five hundred Galleons each, and sent to a dim office to fill out their paperwork. The registration cost another twenty-five Galleons. The witch taking their gold and processing their applications muttered that it was absurd. When they finished, they were ordered to another dim office, this time having to wait in line among curious spectators to pay their fines. A few protesters followed them down, making snide comments about buying their way out of Azkaban. Donzo tried to explain that a fine was a perfectly legal sentence, citing the law on the matter, but they didn't care to listen. Finally, a complete stranger who knew the law well joined in the argument, and by the time Teddy got to the desk to pay, the whole business was being conducted as an argument among strangers, and the only person paying attention to him was a very elderly witch with a tartan handbag.   
  
She watched him curiously as he signed over gold, but as he stepped away to let Donzo take care of his part, she stepped forward and said, "You're Remus Lupin's son?"  
  
Teddy blinked and said, "Er... yes."  
  
"There's something I need to discuss with you."

"Something to discuss with me?" he repeated.  
  
"Aye. It's a bit awkward, but I'll just be blunt. Your dad, rest his soul, died owing me a good bit of gold. I've never asked for it back, but you're clearly not destitute..."  
  
Teddy shook his head. "I... well... Uncle Harry and Bill said they took care of all of his debts years ago. The books were meant to be clear."  
  
The witch pressed her lips together. "'Twasn't entirely in the books, if you understand. It was something Dumbledore arranged, and he didn't necessarily want it to be easy to find Remus Lupin that year."  
  
"Teddy?"  
  
Teddy looked over his shoulder, and found Donzo waiting for him. "Er... Donzo, go ahead," he said. "I think I need to talk to..."  
  
"Mary McAllister," the witch said.  
  
"Mrs. McAllister."  
  
"It's Miss, young man, but I'll not hold it against you."  
  
A press of girls chose that moment to break through the line of the argument, still raging, about whether Teddy and Donzo had got off too easily. They swarmed onto Donzo and started begging him to either sing or transform.  
  
"And I'd like your autograph! Yours, too!" A brunette who Teddy remembered from Hogwarts a few years ago nearly slammed into him. "You took down that monster!" She shoved a bit of parchment toward him, holding out an inked quill.  
  
"Er..."  
  
Mary McAllister slammed her walking stick on the floor and said, "This is the Ministry for Magic, young woman, not a rock and roll show." She looked at Donzo with great dislike, then back at Teddy. "We should discuss this in a less... volatile... setting."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"At the place in question." She fumbled into her handbag, then pulled out a map. "It's this island, in the Orkneys. Your father died owing rent on it. Will you speak to me there Friday, noon? There's a small house. We can speak there." With that--and without waiting for Teddy's answer--she stormed off.  
  
"What was that?" Donzo asked.  
  
Teddy shook his head and sighed. "I don't know. The last of the debts, I suppose. I hope. I'll talk to the portrait later and see if Dad put in any memory of it. Well, if the memories Maddie found in..." He stopped, not bothering to lie about the provenance of the portraits. The fact that he'd used the Resurrection Stone wasn't suspected by anyone, but anyone who understood anything about portraits knew that the official story was bunk, and Donzo didn't even pretend to believe it anymore.  
  
Teddy asked the witch who'd taken their fines if they might go through and use a staircase in the back of the office to get around the crowd, and she agreed in a distracted way. They walked up to the lobby level, where most of the crowd had already dispersed, and parted ways, Donzo heading for the Floos to go back to Weird World ("I promised Vavoom a ride down the ski slope," he said, "so I want to get there before her bedtime") and Teddy heading for the lifts to the Auror Division.  
  
Ruthless wasn't in her cubicle, much to Teddy's disappointment, but he wasn't there to see her, anyway. He went straight to the door of Uncle Harry's office and knocked.  
  
"Come in, Teddy!" Uncle Harry called.  
  
Teddy went in. "Uncle Harry, I just ran into a witch who was talking about Dad and one of Dumbledore's--" He stopped. "Granny?"  
  
Granny looked up from the chair across from Uncle Harry. "You were on trial in front of the Wizengamot, Teddy. I didn't stay home to knit."  
  
"Oh." Teddy took another chair. "Well, maybe you'd know about this, too, I have no idea..." He told them about Mary McAllister.  
  
Uncle Harry shook his head blankly at the end, but Granny grinned and took the map. "Oh, the island!" She laughed fondly. "He lived there the year after he worked at Hogwarts. Dora used to visit him." She looked at Uncle Harry. "They listened to the Triwizard on the wireless there. Sirius was still pretending to be a dog, but Dora had more or less got it figured out by then, it wasn't long before she was in on things..." She looked back at the map. "That last year, they talked about it a lot. Not as much as the Shrieking Shack, but a bit more fondly. The three of them had a good bit of fun there."  
  
"Why would Dad owe gold?"  
  
"I have no idea. And no idea where Dumbledore comes into it, either."  
  
"If it was one of Dumbledore's plans," Uncle Harry said, "we may never know it entirely." He held his hand out for the Map, and Granny Banished it in his direction. "May I go with you on Friday?" he asked. "I remember Dumbledore telling Sirius to 'lay low at Lupin's.' This would have been the place. I'd like to see it."  
  
Teddy nodded, and agreed that Granny could come as well. Whatever the debt was, they'd pay it, visit a few of Mum and Dad's (and Sirius's) haunts, and maybe have a nice day of it. It seemed, in this respect, to be something of a gift. "But I have to admit," he said, "this catching of murderers is getting a bit expensive."  
  
They went back to Grimmauld Place together and had supper with the Potters. The children asked to see Teddy transform several times, and Lily wanted to know how she could catch him on one arm, like she'd seen in a picture. James bragged that he'd known all along, having been rescued by Teddy's hawk when they were caught in the Daedalus Maze together.  
  
"Yes, but you said that was only in the Maze," Al corrected him.  
  
"I was covering up."  
  
Teddy, who'd been sitting on Lily's gauntleted arm during this exchange, jumped down and transformed to say, "And doing a spectacularly good job of it."  
  
"He didn't _really_ know anything," Lily said.  
  
"Yes, I did."  
  
"No, you--"  
  
"Enough," Aunt Ginny said. "Honestly, the pair of you."  
  
After a while, James announced that Frankie had sent a quarterly royalty report, which easily covered the Animagus registration and part of the fine, and the talk turned again to "Jim Wolf's" next book. James was keen to observe Cresswell's trial and have a trial in the story, but Uncle Harry told him that he wasn't going to allow anyone not of age in the gallery. "You don't need to have those pictures in your head," he said.  
  
"You saw--"  
  
"He's mastered the art of hypocrisy," Teddy cut in. "He told me so when I tried that."  
  
"Thank you, Teddy."  
  
The conversation spun pleasantly on into the night, until the children went to bed. Aunt Ginny, Uncle Harry, and Granny fell to talking about old times, and Teddy went up to the parlor.  
  
"Rumor has it," a sharp voice said from the wall, "that you've gone and registered."  
  
Teddy smiled and pulled a chair up in front of the portrait, where James the Elder had struck a mock-accusing pose. Beside him, Sirius had turned into a dog. Teddy shook his head. "Sorry," he said. "No choice."  
  
"Right, right, mass murderers to capture and try." James sighed deeply. "Sirius, go get Lupin; his son's going entirely too legit."  
  
Sirius transformed. "And you think _Remus_ will set him straight?"  
  
"That's a good point."  
  
"I'll get him, anyway," Sirius said, and disappeared out of the frame.  
  
"Let's have it," James said. "I've heard about it from the Hogwarts lot -- well, your Dad, anyway; he's quite chuffed -- but not seen it."  
  
Teddy transformed back and forth.  
  
James was shaking his head with admiring envy. "You can fly on your own. I should've been a bird. That's far too much fun."  
  
Sirius returned with Dad, and Teddy steered the conversation to the island. Both portraits had retained memories of it, with apparent fondness. Dad told him to look for a carving on base of a stone platform by the door.  
  
Teddy was not surprised, when he got back to Granny's that night, to find himself dreaming of the island, though he'd never properly seen it. It came jutting out of the North Sea like a mirror of Azkaban, but strewn with green grasses and wildflowers instead of built up of solid stone. As he flew over it in hawk form, the cruciform shadow rippling in the wind-blown grass, he saw Hogwarts rise up from a hill, and for a brief moment, his heart was filled with gladness--then a cloud covered the sun, and it was the night of the Battle, and people were dying, and he saw himself below, looking at a map and telling Donzo, "It's the last debt, I suppose."  
  
He woke up, troubled, and fed Checkmate, rubbing her shoulders as she ate. She licked his fingertips.  
  
Granny, though down to part time work and soon to retire completely, still rose quite early, and he found her in the kitchen, reading the morning's post. The _Daily Prophet_ was sitting, unfolded, by her plate. "Do you mind?" he asked, picking it up.  
  
"You won't like it."  
  
"I haven't for quite a while."  
  
His hearing hadn't made the front page, but there was a small article about it. Nothing of consequence, though both he and Donzo had their Animagus photographs shown (there was a small blurb explaining what a "raccoon" was to witches and wizards who hadn't traveled much). He turned the page to a center spread, where a series of vandalisms in Diagon and Knockturn Alleys had been featured.  
  
"We won't stop," an anonymous source had declared. "The work has started... we'll finish it!"  
  
Above this, Teddy could see a picture of The Willow, the restaurant the Tinny Gudgeon's parents owned. The front window had been broken, and someone had made the pieces of glass spell out "Free Sam Cresswell." In another picture, someone had done a complex painting that showed Cresswell wielding a sword while standing on the axis of the scales of justice. Glorious sunbeams were behind him, and a ribbon floated at the bottom saying, "Justice unbound."

Teddy Apparated into Diagon Alley as soon as he got dressed, and hurried over to The Willow, but by the time he got there, the Gudgeons had already repaired the window, and the only practical effect of the vandalism appeared to be every friend they'd ever made--and many former Hufflepuffs who'd never actually met them--showing up for the breakfast shift, which Teddy was immediately recruited to help with, along with Frankie, Maurice, and Daffy, who'd all shown up as well (Maurice begged off early, claiming his own opening time). By the end of it, Teddy was happy and tired, and glad to let Frankie talk him into letting everything else go for a day or two. He spent the next few days in and out of Badger Hill and the Charmpress office, working out a long game with Frankie and Tinny, and helping James get a character going for next year, though he privately doubted that James would find the gatherings to his liking, as they didn't _actually_ include the derring-do that was pretended. Over dinner on Thursday, Maddie told him that the Department of Mysteries had met about the illegal magic charge against him, decided that it wouldn't be relevant to his apprenticeship, and told her to deliver the message that he really only needed to worry about his N.E.W.T.s. "If you ask me," she said, "none of us want a protracted look into what silly things we've poked our own noses into over the years. Butter beans?"  
  
By Friday morning, it all seemed rather distant. Granny had to see patients in the morning, and Uncle Harry had paperwork to finish, so they were both going to meet him at the island at noon. He hoped Mary McAllister wouldn't mind them looking around a bit. For his own part, he puttered around Granny's house for as long as he could--straightening books, working on an essay, playing chase with Checkmate--but by eleven, he was entirely at loose ends. More to use up the last hour than anything else, he Apparated to a little wizarding pub on the island of Sanday, in the northeastern part of the Orkneys. There, he transformed into a hawk and flew out over the North Sea, over the clusters of tiny islands that didn't appear on Muggle maps (it was becoming a trick, Maddie said, to hide them from Muggle satellites). One of these islands, further out, housed Azkaban prison, but here, they were held--if inhabited at all--by old crofting families or fishermen. One or two housed exotic and dangerous creatures, according to Roger; the Unplottable Isle of Drear was closer to the Scottish coast, but there were things as exotic as Quintapeds--also known as Hairy MacBoons--this far north.  
  
They all looked rather similar from above: irregular, grass-topped rocks rising out of the angry sea. But through his hawk's eyes, Teddy could see the details--a cottage here, a fishing boat there, a fancy hippogriff breeding farm somewhere else. Far off, he could see the burnt-out remains of a long-abandoned croft, but his own destination was closer. He recognized it by its shape, and by the long, unnatural mound that snaked across the western ridge, leading down to a broken-down shack. It was a Hogboon mound.  
  
Teddy circled down on a cooling column of air and came to land on a standing stone at the island's highest point. The cold, moist wind pulled pleasantly at his feathers, making them feel like the grass that was rippling below him. He could see the whole island from here, lashed by the sea. It descended from sharp cliffs in the west to a wild but usable shoreline in the east. In a tiny lagoon, there was a rotting rowboat, its oars stowed under the seats, and now under a few inches of water. They were well encrusted with barnacles and salt. The length of the Hogboon's mound made a flattened "S", up to the shack, which it appeared to be comfortably embracing. Behind the shack--between it and the mound--were the ruins of a quickly erected stone paddock, and in front of the shack was a low stone platform.  
  
Teddy hopped down from the standing stone and transformed. The wind wasn't quite as pleasant on his human skin, but it wasn't cruel. A light mist dampened his face and hair, and he let it go rather than bothering with an Umbrella Charm. It took about five minutes to get to the shack. He was fifteen minutes early for his appointment. Slowly, he walked around to the back of the shack, to the paddock. Here, on the ground, it looked like quite a lot of loose stones in a broken circle, with a central pole of uncertain origin. On it, Teddy could see talon scratches.  
  
"Buckbeak," he whispered. "You've been here, haven't you?"  
  
There was no answer, but Teddy could see it clearly-- _had_ seen it clearly, he realized, in memories from Dad's wedding ring. Buckbeak had been tied here, and Mum and Dad and Sirius had brought him fish to eat. They'd been able to see him through the window that was high in the wall, and Teddy knew that beyond it was a tattered sort of room where they'd all sat together to listen to the wireless. Sirius had been here whenever he hadn't been in the Hogsmeade cave--his year of freedom before returning to the prison that Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place had become for him. Dad had--  
  
"You're early."  
  
He looked over his shoulder. Mary McAllister was standing at the corner of the shack, an Umbrella charm forming a misty bubble around her. "Sorry, Miss McAllister," he said. "I didn't want to get lost." She didn't answer. Teddy bit his lip. "Er, my grandmother and my godfather are coming as well."  
  
"I thought they might. What's due is due, regardless."  
  
"Oh, no, that's not what I meant. They're not here to help or... well... They just wanted to see the place."  
  
"It's been on the market for twenty-five years," Mary McAllister said. "There's been no shortage of time to see it." She turned and led the way to the shack's front door.  
  
"Have you sold it?" Teddy asked as she let him in. "Is that why you need to settle the debt just now?"  
  
"No, I've not sold it, and that's why I've come for the gold." She stepped inside, looked at the furniture with distaste, and Conjured a table and two chairs. She took one and indicated that Teddy ought to take the other. He did, and she reached into her large handbag, pulling out a tired looking bit of parchment. "This is the contract your father, may he rest, had with me. You'll see it was co-signed by Albus Dumbledore."  
  
Teddy read it over. Under a great deal of legal language, it boiled down to a trade of services for rent. In brief, Dad had been hired to evict the Hogboon.  
  
"You see the problem," Mary said when she saw that Teddy had finished.  
  
"Well..."  
  
"Or perhaps you didn't see--the Hogboon is still there. Your father failed to live up to his end of our contract, and because of it, I've been unable to sell the place."  
  
"Er..."  
  
"Hogboons are ancestral spirits. It attacks people outside of our line, unless they're under protection."  
  
"It didn't attack me," Teddy said.  
  
"Aye, you're one of us. A McAllister girl who was a Squib married a Muggle fellow called McManus. A few generations down the line, long after they'd forgotten the wizarding world, there was a girl named Julia McManus--"  
  
"Who thought she was Muggle-born!" Teddy said. "My grandmother."  
  
"She was Muggle-born. Nary a witch in the family for seven generations. But still of our line, and you and yours are safe enough around the Hogboon, unless you provoke it. Which is how Dumbledore got me to go along with this, despite your father's... unsavory connections."  
  
"Being a werewolf?" Teddy asked dryly.  
  
"You say that as though it's nothing. Do you know how much danger and terror the werewolves have caused here?"  
  
"Not Dad."  
  
She narrowed her eyes, then said, "Aye, yes, not Remus Lupin. But he broke his contract, and he harbored a fugitive on my property."  
  
There was a knock at the door.  
  
"Come in, then," Mary called, and Uncle Harry and Granny both stepped in carefully. Granny kept her eyes on Mary, but Uncle Harry was looking around the room with undisguised interest. Mary waited for his attention. "You'll have leave to look about for an hour when we've finished, but not until." She Conjured chairs for them, while Teddy explained the situation.  
  
"You must be joking," Granny told her coolly. "You're talking about two men who died to help make sure you little island wouldn't be taken over by Death Eaters just because it's here."  
  
"I'm talking," Mary said, "about one man who broke a contract with me. I'll not charge continuous rent, but I'm owed for the year he lived here for no gold at all, and for the interest that's built up since."  
  
Uncle Harry leaned forward. "As an official of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Auror Division, may I strongly recommend that you don't attempt to charge interest on a debt that you've made precisely no one aware of?"  
  
Mary didn't flinch. "Very well, but the principal is still owed to me. Were I to lease this island at a reasonable rate--two hundred Galleons a week is not unheard of, but I shall be charitable and say one hundred--then it would be fifty-two hundred Galleons. Plus damages--that rock pile in back, and the unwanted pile of stones at the door--"  
  
"It's a platform to keep out the mud," Granny said. "That's an improvement on your property."  
  
"So's the paddock," Teddy added.  
  
"Paddock? Is that what it is? And what of the claw marks all over the back of the house? Are they meant to be artwork now?"  
  
Teddy started to say that they weren't claw marks, but talon marks, but decided that wouldn't be helpful. Instead, he looked at the contract again. "There's no special rent mentioned here. There was no agreement to pay a hundred Galleons a week, and given that it would have been cheaper then, and that you haven't been able to rent it at all--"  
  
"Which is a direct result of your father's breach of our contract!" Mary said. "The price is what it is, unless you care to argue it in front of the Wizengamot, and I don't think they'll want the same spoiled, wealthy boy to be pampered twice in a week."  
  
Uncle Harry stood up, and Teddy could see him tensing for a fight, but Granny put her hand on his arm. "Harry, she's a rude old crone, but she's not wrong. Not _entirely_."  
  
"Granny, Uncle Harry, please," Teddy said. "This is my business to settle."  
  
"Then might I suggest we settle it?" Mary asked.  
  
Teddy looked out the high window, at the paddock that had been Buckbeak's, and at the door to a side room where the floor was still marked with a muddy paw print (Mary had clearly not been keeping the property up). He squared his shoulders and said, "First, let's take a walk around this island. I want to see this alleged damage."


	24. Settling Accounts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy chooses to resolve his father's debt to Mary McAllister in a novel way--by simply taking the whole island off her hands--but this bit of adult life is overshadowed by the beginning of Sam Cresswell's trial, for which Hermione summons him to give testimony.

"As you like," Mary McAllister said, looking displeased. "Shall we begin here, in the house?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
She pointed toward a splintery door, which blew open into a dismal looking bedroom. "Go on, then. Look at the wardrobe. Claw marks on the side. Will you suggest there's something else that caused them?"  
  
Teddy got up and went to the room; Uncle Harry and Granny followed. There was a cheap old wardrobe with a thin layer of wood veneer on it. Across the side that faced a window were four very distinctive claw marks.  
  
"That _is_ werewolf damage," Granny said softly. "Remus got the garden wall a few times while he lived with us."  
  
Teddy put his fingers on the long, splintery grooves.  
  
Uncle Harry touched them as well, then said, "This thing was ready for the rubbish bin before he clawed it."  
  
"I know," Teddy said.  
  
"And the floor! Look at my floor!" Mary called. "The edge was dredged up."  
  
Teddy glanced at the cheap flooring, which was curling up where it joined the wall. "That's normal aging!" he called back.  
  
"The bed frame wasn't broken when he moved in," she countered.  
  
Teddy looked at the bed. There was certainly a crack in the frame, but there was no way to tell where it had come from--though he suspected that, had Dad or Sirius done it, it would be fixed. Then again, Dad would normally have fixed the wolf scratches; they weren't cursed when they'd been inflicted on wood veneer, as far as he knew. Leaving it could well have been nothing but petulance. Dad hadn't been in the best frame of mind after losing his job at Hogwarts.  
  
Or he might have forgotten about it.  
  
There was no way to know, short of using the Resurrection Stone, and Teddy didn't think Uncle Harry would allow a second use just to settle the affair of the wardrobe scratch. The portrait almost certainly wouldn't have such a memory stored, and Teddy had been through nearly everything on the ring.  
  
Uncle Harry cast a Muffling Charm and said, "Teddy, this is absurd. You know it is. She has no legal right to any gold from you, and what she's doing is vile."  
  
"I know," Teddy said. "Granny, what do you think Dad would have done?"  
  
She shook her head. "I don't know, Teddy. He certainly couldn't have paid it."  
  
" _Would_ he have, if he could?"  
  
She considered this more carefully, then said, "Teddy, your father hated being in anyone's debt. I think he'd have beaten himself up and tried to find a way to pay, had she found him. And I'd have told him he was mad, and shouldn't even consider it, which is exactly what I'll tell you."  
  
"And Mum? What would she have told him?"  
  
"She'd have talked about what an utterly wretched woman this is, and..." Granny ground her teeth. "Then she'd have offered to help, because she was Ted's girl that way more than she was mine, and I'm still not going to suggest you do anything of the sort."  
  
"He really didn't do what he was supposed to," Teddy said uncertainly.  
  
"And if Mary McAllister cared about that," Uncle Harry said, "then she could have contacted Albus Dumbledore at any point during the next two years. He was only difficult to find for about two months of them, and he _did_ co-sign."  
  
"That makes sense," Teddy said. He touched the scratches again, then went back into the main room. "What else?" he asked Mary. "Because I think I can pay what that wardrobe is worth from what I happen to have in my pocket just now."  
  
"Hmph. The pantry. It's entirely covered in paw prints, and there's a stack of mysteriously yellowed _Daily Prophets_ that was left gathering insects. All of them are from the time he stayed here."  
  
"A stack of newspapers? Really?" Granny asked, her voice dry. "You couldn't have just vanished them?"  
  
"I'd've done, but for the other things. There's also an umbrella stand that I'm sure was magically repaired, and the spell was done none too carefully. It was put together wrong, and it broke as soon as... well, we'll not dwell on that."  
  
"As soon as they died?" Teddy asked, with some disbelief. "You're complaining that their dying _broke your umbrella stand_?"  
  
To her credit, Mary didn't pursue this line, though she looked dolefully at a pile of heavy ceramic shards in one corner. Granny closed her eyes and put her hand to her throat.  
  
Teddy ground his teeth. "Why didn't you just take care of it and clean up?"  
  
"I wanted to ask him about it and ask for restitution, but I couldn't find him for the next three years, you'll recall."  
  
"Because he was fighting a war," Uncle Harry reminded her.  
  
Mary looked less than impressed by this flimsy excuse. "I let it be then, didn't I? Didn't come back until I knew his heir had the means to pay me back."  
  
"How kind of you," Teddy said. "What else?"  
  
"I mentioned the rock pile in back, which you already saw--quite a mess."  
  
"It was a paddock. It's come apart over the years."  
  
"And that business up front. I gave him no permission to add to the house, and it's been carved in ways it won't do for any buyer to see."  
  
"Carved?"  
  
"Aye. We'll go have a look, as you want one."  
  
They all bundled up again, and went out into the rain. Mary stepped off the platform and went around to its north-facing side. "The whole thing is just earth built up and sealed with stones," she said. "Not what I'd call a professional job of building, even if I had given him permission. And this is the top of it."  
  
Teddy went around behind her. There, in the flat stone that formed this side of the box, Dad had made a carving of Padfoot. Mum sat beside him, with her arm over his neck.  
  
"Sirius said he hadn't drawn for years!" Uncle Harry said.  
  
"It's not drawing," Granny said. "And Remus did tell me once that Sirius wanted to get him working on art again because he'd done a bit of art on the island, which wasn't any good--according to Remus--and Sirius thought he ought to get back in practice."  
  
"Charming," Mary said. "But a carving of a werewolf cavorting with a young girl isn't likely to appeal to a buyer."  
  
"It's not a werewolf, it's a dog," Teddy explained. "It's... never mind. I'd like to buy the stone from you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"The stone, I'd like to buy it."  
  
"You can have it when you pay the debt. Something to seal the payment, we'll say." Mary pointed at the Hogboon's mound. "The mound is collapsed in five or six places as well. And can you see that rusty cauldron at the base?"  
  
Teddy squinted. "Yes."  
  
"It had rotten food in it when I came. He was _feeding_ the beast, not trying to evict it at all."  
  
"How shocking," Granny said. "With a bonus like you offered--being kicked out of the only place he had to stay--I'm surprised he didn't expel it the first day."  
  
"Then you admit he was malingering!"  
  
Granny rolled her eyes.  
  
Uncle Harry crouched down by the stone, smiling. "I believe Teddy offered to buy this from you."  
  
"It's not for sale until the debt is squared away."  
  
"What do _you_ need it for?"  
  
Teddy sighed, and let Mary argue with Uncle Harry. He looked up the hill at the crest of the island, at the four standing stones that marked it, where he'd first landed. He looked across the stormy sea. He could remember one of Mum's memories in the ring--Sirius trying to teach her to dance here, failing, laughing at her clumsiness. He could hear their laughter in the wind, almost see Dad coming up from the ocean with fish for supper.  
  
From the stone carving, Padfoot looked up at him, grinning his dog-grin, and Mum's eyes seemed to twinkle, even though the carving wasn't magical, and nothing moved or reacted.  
  
Out of nowhere, he thought of sitting at Shell Cottage last summer, looking at the staggering amounts of gold that had flowed into his bank account, the tangible love of the shades who had always watched over him. And he heard Père Alderman say, _Something like that held in reserve--I can't explain it, but I think there's a reason it's come to you. I think there may be a need for it someday._  
  
He blinked and turned around, interrupting Uncle Harry and Granny, and said, "Where is this island listed?"  
  
Mary frowned. "What?"  
  
"You said you've been trying to sell it. Who have you listed it with?"  
  
She seemed confused, but said, "It's been listed for nearly thirty years with Oakroot Magical Properties. I believe Marcus Flint is handling it now. But no one will look, due to the Hogboon--there aren't enough members of the family left who can come and go as they please and--"  
  
"Call him," Teddy said.  
  
"I beg your pardon!"  
  
"Call him. Tell him you have a buyer."

"I'll not have you wasting his time or mine."

"I'm not.  As you mentioned, I'm not destitute, and I'll need somewhere to live.  Why not here?  I ought to be able to get alone with the Hogboon.  But I want the _listing_ , as it's printed.  Make sure he brings that."

"Wait, Teddy," Uncle Harry said, coming over.  He lowered his voice. "This is a fairly large issue."

"I know."

"Property ownership is quite complicated…"

"I know.  I'll figure it out."

Uncle Harry sighed.  "Let me call Bill Weasley.  He understands these things better than I do, and certainly better than you do.  Let him help."

Teddy almost refused on principle.  He wanted to handle this as an adult.  Then again, adults occasionally asked for expert help.  He nodded and sent his Patronus to Gringotts.

While they were talking, Mary had apparently called for Flint, as she was waiting impatiently for something.

Bill got there ahead of Flint and pulled Teddy aside. "Harry, Andromeda--I'm talking to Teddy alone," he said, then enforced this with a Muffling Charm. "Teddy... what are you doing?"  
  
"She's been trying to sell it for thirty years. I'm going to buy it."  
  
"Did you even ask what she was asking?"  
  
"That's why I asked for the listing. I didn't want her to quote a higher price than she's been giving anyone who _doesn't_ want it."  
  
Bill thought about this, then said, "All right, that's not a bad start." He twirled his wand, and several sheaves of paper fell down onto a rock.  A piece of blank parchment floated up to Bill and started to receive numbers. "These are listings of other private islands, magical and Muggle. The prices are quite variable--the lowest was about thirteen thousand Galleons, the highest... well, this is nowhere near the highest, but a more average price would be about a hundred and fifty thousand Galleons."  
  
"A hundred and--"  
  
"That's probably what she's been asking for thirty years, and she hasn't got it, which gives you leverage."  
  
"As long as the Hogboon's here," Teddy offered, "she can only sell it in the family, and I think I'm all there is."  
  
"All right. That tarpaper shack your dad lived in barely counts as development, so I'm going to remove all of the islands with real improvements built on them from consideration, and keep them in northern waters. I think that will take the average down considerably." He Vanished more than three quarters of the listings, and the numbers on his tally sheet re-adjusted themselves.  
  
"She'll say the house is still a house."  
  
"I wouldn't take it as more than ten thousand Galleons. So we'll offer the lowest price--the thirteen thousand Galleons--and add ten for the house if she makes a fuss about it."   
  
"And she'll want what Dad owes. Fifty-two hundred."  
  
"We'll start the offers at twenty-five thousand. If I were you, I wouldn't go above thirty-five. There's a lot of work to be done here."  
  
"I have thirty-five."  
  
"You have considerably more than thirty-five, and interest accrues to it every day, but I'd still advise you to take a loan for it. Make a good down payment, of course, but you'll help establish yourself if you take some on loan."  
  
Teddy frowned. "I'm sure that's what they told my grandparents about taking out a loan on the Shrieking Shack, and it ended up stolen out from underneath my parents, and used by Voldemort."  
  
"Please accept that that's a rather rare occurrence. And if you find that someone is trying such a thing, I'd point out that you'll be on an island. Islands are fortresses--that's why Azkaban is on one. It's a lot harder to take an island than a house."  
  
"I've noticed that, with all the Viking relics around Britain. And the Norman invasion. And the Romans."  
  
Bill laughed. "All right, Teddy. But the advice still stands. You don't have to decide today. Just remember, what you have in your vault earns interest. What you take out of it, doesn't. And you'll have a lot of work to do here if you mean to live here. Is this where you mean to live?"  
  
"I... I don't know."  
  
Bill put the remaining listings into a folder, then said, "Teddy, why are you doing this?"  
  
"Are you going to be logical, or just listen?"  
  
"I'm willing to just listen."  
  
"It feels like the right thing to do. Like this is what the gold is _for_."  
  
Teddy expected an argument, but Bill just shrugged. "I thought it was something like that. All right, then. I noticed you were chafing at having Harry and Andromeda intervene for you, but will you trust me to negotiate? I've done this quite a lot."  
  
"All right," Teddy said. "But no matter what, there's a stone carving that Dad did, and I want to take it home with me today. I don't want it to get mysteriously damaged."  
  
"Fair enough," Bill said, and broke the Muffling Charm.  
  
The negotiations involved with purchasing a property were far more complex than Teddy had guessed, and he was glad he had Bill to walk him through it. Even after four hours (Uncle Harry had needed to go back to work after only one), there was no definite agreement, except for the art, which Bill got Flint to concede to immediately.  It was sent back to Granny's. Mary sat morosely behind Flint, who started at the absurd price of two hundred thousand Galleons, so Bill ignored the development entirely and started at thirteen.

Finally, at five o'clock, Flint said his day was over, and he was through taking absurd suggestions. Bill ignored him, and reminded Mary that she'd been trying to sell it at exorbitant prices for thirty years, with no success, and Flint was only holding out to get a higher commission. After she grudgingly agreed to consider it, she sent Teddy, Bill, and Granny back to the mainland.

They stopped at the pub on Sanday for supper, and Bill told him, "She'll take it in the end. If she balks, I'll remind her that you're the only other blood heir, and if it's unsold at her death, you might just file a legal claim for it."  
  
"I'd rather you didn't put it that way," Teddy said. "I don't want to be a ghoul, waiting for an old woman to die."  
  
"Not to mention," Granny said, "that _that_ one would live forever just to spite you."  
  
Bill agreed. "More realistically, if we did that, and she became a ghost, she'd have legitimate leave to haunt. I have the impression that you wouldn't care for her eternal company."  
  
"Teddy has more than enough eternal company," Granny said.  
  
Teddy hoped for an answer the next day, even though it was Saturday, but one didn't come. He gathered Maurice's school assignments, played a game of Muggles and Minions at Charmpress, and packed his bags to go back to school with his classmates for the last time. The Hogwarts Express left on Sunday at eleven. All of the seventh years could have Apparated to Hogsmeade and walked; none of them--not even Geoffrey--did.  
  
Sam Cresswell's trial started the next day, taking Teddy's mind entirely off of the island. He would be called to testify to what he'd found eventually, but the day hadn't been set for it. Honoria was again forced to put her series on hold, as the editorial pages of the _Charmer_ were taken up by arguments that pretended to be about the trial. Most boiled down to arguments about the war and its aftermath, what might have been done in a perfect world, what was the right thing to do in an imperfect one. A few younger students just seemed to enjoy the provocateur role, and there was no conversation with them. After a week, Honoria stopped publishing anything that didn't at least show references, which caused a second year Ravenclaw to start a "competing" school paper, handwritten and distributed by poorly mastered Duplication spells. The larger world seemed to be same, with little magazines cropping up to counter the supposedly "unfair" silencing done at the _Daily Prophet_.   
  
It was a confused and tangled week. A few diehards tried to contend that Sam had been framed, but for the most part, even the sympathetic press thought him mad. The most troubling was a hardcore group that agreed he'd committed the murders, but had somehow developed a system of belief about him that justified them. These were kept from the public at large, except through their self-published missives, but Teddy got a package of those missives from Maddie the Friday after he returned to school, as he was the only one who'd shown any interest in the Mystery of Faith, and this bunch had concocted one of the nastier cults he'd seen. They seemed to be mainly women--judging from their pseudonyms, anyway--who believed that Sam was a divine figure who had come to them to purge the country of its sins. They made wild-eyed prophecies about end-times, and the world that would emerge from the rubble, when Hogwarts, the Ministry, the Statute of Secrecy, and MI6--a favorite bugaboo--had been laid waste. Maddie included a single, short note with this vile delivery: _Teddy, are they dangerous, or just crazy?_  
  
Teddy thought carefully about it. He didn't want to give the wrong answer, and not just because he didn't want to risk his apprenticeship. Finally, he wrote back, _To the Ministry and the other institutions, no. They're nutters and none too well organized or thought out. But to any individual person who crosses them, yes. Tell the Aurors not to meet them on their own ground, and to make sure they work with partners._  
  
Sunday in London came and went. Maurice had testified about his parents' and Borgin's death on Friday, and refused permission for Wendell to do so, on the good grounds that Rita could testify to all of the same things without it being as traumatic. As a result of the testimony, he had lost his good spirits again, and his school work showed it. Teddy made him re-do his Defense essay, and warned him that his other two marks weren't going to be high, either. Whatever his academic failings, the shop was doing well, and Teddy had to wait patiently between customers to tutor him. There was also a bouquet from the American singer he'd been handling, as he'd worked out a good recording contract for her.  
  
By the following Thursday, the last thing he was thinking about was Mary McAllister and her island, and at first, he assumed that the Weasleys' owl was there for Victoire and Marie and Aimee, rather than for him. It held out its foot, and Teddy unfolded the small note. _Miss McAllister has accepted your offer of thirty thousand Galleons for the island, which includes the money she claims is owed her, though she insists that I add, "And I hope he has as much luck with it as I did." We will discuss the practical matters on Sunday. This is a long process, Teddy, but welcome to the world of land ownership. Quite a debut!_

They met at Maurice's on Sunday to sign the final papers, and Bill talked Teddy into taking half of the price as a mortgage, though Teddy specified that it was to be short term. Once this was finished, the deal was done. He owned the island. And he had no notion whatsoever what had compelled him to buy it.  
  
"Well," Maurice said after Bill had left, "you'll need a place to live. It's as good as any."  
  
"Of course I'm going to live there," Teddy said. "Why else would I buy an island? But why _there_? I should have shopped around."  
  
"Yes, because before this came about, you'd been carefully studying wizarding real estate, waiting for the perfect property to crop up." Maurice rolled his eyes, and Conjured a mirror. "Teddy Lupin, meet Teddy Lupin. He's an impulsive git who runs off into the middle of a fray, at which point he turns introspective and conservative, and wonders what he's doing there."  
  
"In other words, I start as Mum and end as Dad."  
  
"No. You start out as both of them, then turn into some alien Ravenclaw ancestor. Which reminds me, I dug up the McAllister Squib, then did a bit of research in the Muggle libraries. I have the line for you, if you want it. Quite interesting. I wonder how many Muggle-borns have the same story if they go back far enough--some ancestor that, as far as they can tell, just showed up out of nowhere, but turns out to be a Squib who, as far as we were concerned, disappeared _into_ nowhere."  
  
"I see you're back at Borgin's family trees."  
  
"I have to take my pleasures where I can. Which did _not_ include Defense this week..."  
  
Teddy set aside the island, the trial, and Maurice's genealogical obsessions, and set about getting him through the week's lesson on detection of dangerous and subtle curses--a lesson they both thought would be of particular use in Maurice's current circumstance. The shop's crowded work room provided any number of items to practice on.  
  
Very early Tuesday morning, Teddy was awakened by an otter Patronus falling from his dormitory ceiling. Its mouth opened and Hermione Weasley's voice came out: "Teddy, I'm at the portrait hole with a subpoena. I didn't want to owl it."  
  
He rubbed his eyes and fumbled for his wand to send back the message that he was on the way down as soon as he got dressed. Ten minutes later, he met her in the corridor. He was still groggy.  
  
She handed him a small scroll. He opened it and quickly read the order. "Today?" he said. "Right now?"  
  
"I'm sorry," she said. "That's why I came up to serve it personally, as an officer of the Wizengamot. We had several more witnesses lined up to testify to Cresswell's state of mind, but I'm afraid his advocate told us last night that she would stipulate all of the statements, and Kingsley accepted it, which means moving ahead to other testimony. You'll speak, and then Ruth will." Hermione sighed. "I set you first. It's not an entirely pragmatic decision; I just thought she might need a friend after it. And before you ask, no, I'm not in the jury seats. I am prosecuting. That gives me some leeway."  
  
Teddy nodded. He almost made a comment that he'd had no advocate, but of course, he and Donzo had been accused of a minor legal infraction, not of multiple murders. The rules were, presumably, different. "Does the Headmistress know I'm leaving?"  
  
"Yes. I took the liberty while you were getting dressed. She says you've been away from school more than you've been in it this year, but I'm afraid it can't be helped."  
  
"Do I have time to change into my Ministry robes instead of my school robes?"  
  
She checked her watch. "Barely. I want you to come to my office first so we can go over what will happen. I really thought we'd have this weekend for it."  
  
"In that case, I'll just Transfigure them," Teddy said, and altered the appearance of his robes.  
  
Hermione took him to Professor Longbottom's office, and from there, they Flooed to hers at the Ministry. Teddy had never been in it before. She was on the same floor as the Aurors, but on a corridor opposite theirs. Her assistant was an elf dressed in heavy brocade robes, with a string of pearls around her neck. She had no hair, but wore a fine cap that gave the illusion of it.  
  
"I have your files," she said smartly, handing Hermione a stack of folders. "Everything is in order." She smiled. Her grammar was perfect and her manner that of an efficient and prized employee.  
  
"Thank you, Bezza," Hermione said.  
  
"Bess," the elf said. "I've finally chosen 'Bess.'"  
  
"Bess, then.  That will look lovely on the door when you get your own office. I'll have Teddy inside; if anything comes from the Wizengamot, bring it in right away. They've been known to play a dirty trick or two. Not in Kingsley's time, but I should like to be careful."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
"Thank you, Bess." Hermione opened her inner office door and let Teddy in ahead of her. It was a small office, and every bit of the walls had been taken up by her Expanding Shelves, even a tiny spot above the door. The only bare spots were the columns that separated the shelves, and on these, she'd placed pictures of Ron, Hugo, and Rosie, one of Uncle Harry's family, and a Muggle photograph that he assumed was of her parents. Her desk had several neatly organized stacked baskets, and from one of them, she took a piece of parchment Teddy recognized perfectly well as the statement he'd given the night of Cresswell's arrest. "I'll need you to testify to what's in your statement, and I'll ask you about the search of Ruth's flat as well. You also mentioned in the statement that you'd encountered Cresswell not long before Ruth broke up with him?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'll ask about that as well. Just tell the truth, simply and clearly."  
  
"I would've done that anyway..."  
  
"That'll be what _I'll_ ask, Teddy. Cresswell's advocate sometimes asks his questions, but he has also taken to defending himself with some witnesses, and I anticipate that he'll do so with you and Ruth."  
  
"You shouldn't let him talk to Ruthless."  
  
"I have no choice. Teddy, don't go off on an angry tangent. I'm trying to tell you something important."  
  
"Right. What?"  
  
"A lot has been kept out of the papers, largely because he attacked Rita Skeeter and she's not interested in giving him a soapbox by quoting him extensively. But in the chamber, he's been grandstanding. I think he's almost certain to bring up Greyback. She'll try to draw an equivalence between what he did and what you did."  
  
"What do you want me to say to that?"  
  
"You'll be under oath, but you needn't--"  
  
The door opened and Bess came in. "Mrs. Weasley, the defense has demanded immediate testimony."  
  
Hermione swore under her breath. "Very well. Teddy, tell the truth, but don't do it suicidally. There was no way both you and Greyback were going to come out of that house, and everyone knows it. You don't need to elaborate on what your motives were. You're not on trial."  
  
With that, she led him out of the office and to the lifts. They went down to the Department of Mysteries without speaking, and she left him with two bailiffs. An Azkaban guard was seated in a rest area, watching everything with her eyes narrowed. She had curly hair, and some kind of shallow but badly Healed scars across her nose and cheeks, and she watched Hermione go inside with deep dislike.  
  
Teddy didn't have long to contemplate this--and wasn't terribly interested in it--before the door opened, and the bailiffs led him inside. He stood before the Wizengamot again, this time a witness rather than a defendant. He could see most of the same people who'd been present for his hearing. Uncle Harry was closer to the front this time, and in full dress uniform. Hermione sat in a small box that had been constructed to the Minister's right; to his left was another box. In it were a sallow thin woman, two more Azkaban guards, and Sam Cresswell. To Teddy's surprise, Cresswell hadn't got the scratches on his face Healed. The ugly red welts that Teddy's talons had raised seemed very dark in here.  
  
The bailiff came to him and swore him in, then Hermione stood up. "Please state your name for the record," she said.  
  
"Ted Remus Lupin."  
  
"Please tell us about the events of the night of Sunday, the seventeenth of April..."  
  
Teddy briefly related the events he'd already submitted in his statement to the Aurors, then she moved on to his meeting with Cresswell in December and the events following the murder of Maurice's parents, including the search of Ruthless's flat. To his horror, the question of the note he'd found there came up, and he was forced to answer it, to tell complete strangers about the horrible thing Sam had said to Ruthless. When Hermione finished questioning, she nodded coolly to the defense.  
  
Sam Cresswell stood up, smiling.


	25. Legitimate Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the trial, Sam seems less concerned with proving his own innocence than in proving everyone else's guilt. Meanwhile, Teddy notices the people who are gathering around Sam.

"Good morning, Mr. Lupin," Sam Cresswell said. "Glad you could make it."  
  
Teddy didn't answer.  
  
Sam had apparently expected this, as he didn't press for answer. "You must be getting used to this room, having had an inquiry about illegal magic use here only two weeks ago. But of course, there was no real consequence to that. Not for the likes of _you_ , at any rate."  
  
"There was a perfectly legal fine," Teddy said. "Did you plan to ask a question?"  
  
"We have a lot in common, you and I," Sam told him. "Both of our families ruined in the war, both of us with fathers whose lives were destroyed by Death Eaters long before being killed by them. My father was destroyed by Runcorn. Turned him over to higher ranking Death Eaters. Please remind the Wizengamot who ruined your father."  
  
"My father wasn't ruined."  
  
Sam laughed. "Ah. Of course. He had a delightful life. Why was he unable to find and keep jobs?"  
  
"I object," Hermione said. "For heaven's sake, what on Earth has that to do with anything?"  
  
Sam turned to the Minister. "I'll connect the dots."  
  
Kingsley ground his teeth and said, "Do so _quickly_ , Mr. Cresswell."  
  
Sam nodded. "Very well. Mr. Lupin, explain what condition made it difficult for your father to keep a job."  
  
"He was a werewolf," Teddy said, grudgingly.  
  
"And who made him a werewolf?"  
  
"You know who did."  
  
"Humor me."  
  
"Fenrir Greyback."  
  
"And where is Fenrir Greyback now?"  
  
"He's dead."  
  
Sam nodded. "Yes. Do you believe in hell, Lupin?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"So do I. And you did a marvelous job sending Greyback there. We'd been chasing him for most of the year, but you dispatched him in a night. Good show."  
  
"Greyback was an immediate threat," Teddy said.  
  
"Yes, but tell me... did it feel good to kill him? Were you angry? Did you give him a chance to escape?"  
  
"It was a fight," Teddy told him tightly.  
  
"I read the report. There was quite a huge gap in it--the part that explained exactly how he died."  
  
"It wasn't missing. I've seen it. I took him behind a fireplace, where we fought. He went back through without activating the Floo, and was killed."  
  
"And what happened before that? What did you say? What did you do?"  
  
"That's quite enough," Kingsley said. "Unless you have something pertinent to your own case, Mr. Cresswell, I suggest you move on from this topic."  
  
"It's all pertinent to my case, Minister Shacklebolt. After all, Lupin and I both got our revenge on the men who ruined our fathers. I want the members to hear _why_ we did it. The reasons are the same. And yet, Lupin is free to come here and testify."  
  
"That's absurd," Hermione said, rising. "Minister, I move that this be stricken from the record. Fenrir Greyback was strong, gathering followers, and had already killed several people in the course of his escape. He was determined to kill or turn Mr. Lupin. There is no comparison to be made to the cold-blooded slaughter of an elderly man who had already served his full sentence in Azkaban."  
  
"The full sentence wasn't enough!" Sam cried. "He was free again. My father was dead, and Runcorn was free. Tell me, Lupin, how was that fair?"  
  
"It wasn't," Teddy said. "There was nothing fair about it."  
  
Sam blinked, apparently somewhat surprised by this answer. "So you agree."  
  
"That your father shouldn't have died? Or been turned in? Of course I agree. My grandfather shouldn't have been murdered the same night. But I didn't go around looking for people to kill to make up for it, and even if I had, it wouldn't make it fair. Nothing's going to make it fair or right. Particularly chopping an old man up and hanging him by his ankles across Knockturn Alley. That's just going to make it worse. You've ruined your father for a second time by saying you're doing it in his name."  
  
Sam grimaced, then waved his hand and said, "I have no further questions." He sat down.  
  
Hermione said, "I have no further questions."  
  
"Very well," Kingsley said. "Mr. Lupin, you are released. You may remain in the gallery, should you choose to do so."  
  
Teddy nodded, and let a bailiff lead him to a seat, while another announced that the Wizengamot now called Miss Ruth Scrimgeour. The door opened, and Ruthless was led in. She looked paler and more subdued than usual. While she was sworn in, Teddy looked at Sam, who was rather expressionless, then at his guards and his advocate. All three were witches. He hadn't paid much attention to this before--it wasn't unusual--but now, something tried to make a connection in his mind. It missed. But he did note that the advocate was staring rather moonily at Sam, which might explain why she was letting him do as he pleased.  
  
Hermione questioned Ruth first, focusing on the early investigation of the murders, and Sam's behavior as an Auror. Finally, she said, "Miss Scrimgeour, you were Mr. Cresswell's alibi. You gave statements that he was with you on the occasion of the second murder. Please explain to this body why you gave that statement."  
  
"It was what I remembered," Ruthless said. "As it turns out, Sam knew a bit more Herbology than we were aware of. Mallowsweet creates false memories, based on something that's been suggested. My flat was filled with it." She stood up, squaring her shoulders, and said, "It was all through my sheets. The bastard gave me an idea of what I'd remember, and I remembered it well enough to give him his alibi."  
  
"Very well, thank you, Miss Scrimgeour," Hermione said.  
  
Sam rose. "Hello, Ruthie," he said. "You look good enough to eat, and I remember how good you taste."  
  
"Sod off."  
  
"Mr. Cresswell," Kingsley said, "you will remember where you are. This is not neither a pub nor a Quidditch locker room. You will treat Miss Scrimgeour with respect."  
  
"I always give Ruth what she wants," he said. "Don't I, Ruthie?"  
  
Ruthless pressed her lips together, then looked up to where Teddy was sitting. He gave her an encouraging smile, and she said, "I want to get this over with before my hair turns gray," she told Sam. "Go on--we both know you can be a lot quicker."  
  
"Miss Scrimgeour," Kingsley said, "I give you the same advice."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
Sam waited for a slight titter in the gallery to fade away, then said, with exaggerated formality, "Miss Scrimgeour, did you or did you not tell me, in the wake of Runcorn's murder"--he made a show of pulling out a scroll--"'Looks like someone took out our rubbish for us'?"  
  
"That was just--"  
  
"It's a yes or no question."  
  
Ruthless glared at him, then said, "Yes."  
  
"Why would you say such a thing?"  
  
"It was... I was... Oh, all right, Runcorn was a piece of rubbish. That didn't stop me from wanting to find out who murdered him. Even rubbish oughtn't be tortured and mutilated."  
  
"How pious of you," Sam said dryly. "Do you remember a case we worked on--it was your first--involving a wizard called Thaddeus Kenyon?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Explain the case to the Wizengamot."  
  
Ruthless looked confused. "He was using a potion to drug witches, then taking advantage of them."  
  
"How old was Mr. Kenyon?"  
  
"Seventy, I think."  
  
"Before we caught him, what exactly did you wish you could do?"  
  
"Catch him."  
  
"The exact words."  
  
"I don't remember."  
  
"I do. And I can call Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter to verify it. You said, 'I'd like to string the bastard up by his balls.'"  
  
Ruthless didn't answer.  
  
Sam tilted his head theatrically, then said, "Now, Ruthie, wouldn't that be torturing and mutilating an elderly man, just because he was rubbish?"  
  
"I didn't _do_ it!"  
  
"Failure to execute a plan doesn't make the plan any different."  
  
Kingsley wearily raised his gavel again, let it fall with a thump, and said, "Your point, Mr. Cresswell?"  
  
"As you wish, Minister. We heard of the vengeance taken by Mr. Lupin, and now we hear Miss Scrimgeour wishing bloody reprisals of her own. I'd wager everyone in this room could tell a similar story. The only difference between them and myself is that I followed through."  
  
"A fairly large difference in a criminal trial," Hermione said, not even getting up. She looked at him with an expression of extreme disdain. "Do you have any _real_ questions for this witness, or were you just going to waste her time?"  
  
"Oh," Sam said, "I have quite a lot for the little..." He stopped, and said, "Witness."  
  
"I think not," Kingsley said. "Miss Scrimgeour, you are excused with the Wizengamot's apologies, unless Mr. Cresswell's advocate has a _legitimate_ question."  
  
The advocate said, "I think Miss Scrimgeour has done all she really can."  
  
"Very well. You're free to go. Mrs. Weasley, is your next witness ready?"  
  
"I had him brought from school during early testimony," Hermione said, as Ruthless slipped out.   
  
Teddy didn't pay attention to what she was saying. He followed Ruthless out into the corridor opposite the one where they'd come in.  Before the door closed, he heard Hermione say, "The prosecution calls Donald McCormack Duke..." Teddy looked over his shoulder and saw Donzo come in from the antechamber. He waved his hand to signal where he'd gone, but didn't wait to see if Donzo had caught it.  
  
Ruthless had stopped partway down the corridor, where a marble bench rested against the wall. She sat down on it and buried her hands in her hair. This made the clips she'd put in to tame it stand up straight, and one of them popped open. Teddy sat down beside her and carefully took the rest of them out. She said nothing, but opened her hand when he offered them to her. She pocketed them. Her hair fell in a dispirited mass of unruly red curls, until it got to the base, where she'd managed to twist some of it into a bun.  
  
"I'm glad my brothers are at school," she said. "They'd end up on trial themselves."  
  
"They love you."  
  
"Yeah. And I didn't tell my parents that I was testifying today. Same reason." She sighed. "I know how to pick them, don't I?" she asked bitterly.  
  
Teddy took her hand. "You picked me once. I'm fine."  
  
She wound her fingers through his. "You are. But you're not mine."  
  
"I am, though. As long as you need me to be."  
  
She reached over and patted his arm with her free hand, then leaned back to rest her head against the wall. "If I'd been born about forty minutes later, I'd have been in your year. Can I pretend that I was? That I'm just about to finish school, and this whole year didn't happen? Fresh start with the lot of you."  
  
"Fine with me," Teddy said. "I expect Uncle Harry and Ron will expect you to retain anything they've taught you, though."  
  
"I've been doing an extended Defense Against the Dark Arts project. In which I noticeably failed a few sections." She laughed quietly. "I suppose I can't make the year un-happen, can I?"  
  
"Well, there are Time Turners in my office-to-be," Teddy said. "Of course, we can't get to them because if you reach in, time just keeps reversing and pushing your hand out." He turned on the bench, and put his hand on her face to get her to look at him. "Do you need anything?"  
  
She looked at him for a long time, then smiled and pulled his hand away from her cheek. "You have no idea how much I want to say I need a kiss, but I really just want one, and it wouldn't be a good idea." She considered this, then said, "I could stand an arm around me, though."  
  
"I can do that," Teddy said, and put his arm over her shoulders. She settled into the crook of his arm, and they were quiet for a long time. Beyond the door, they could hear the sound of Donzo's voice, but not the words.  
  
"It's the wrong order for testimony," Ruthless said. "It should have been me, then you, then Donzo. Order of the narrative. Hermione put you first so you could come out after me, didn't she?"  
  
Teddy considered lying, then said, "Yes. She thought you'd want a friend."  
  
Ruthless nodded. "She's not bad. Not really the sort I'd have been friends with at Hogwarts, but I like her."  
  
"Me, too."  
  
"And Ron's great."  
  
"True."  
  
"And I like Anthony Goldstein, and even Williams isn't bad. And I always liked your godfather. I've talked to his wife a little more this year--don't know why we never spent much time with her; she seems all right."  
  
"Aunt Ginny's great. Why?"  
  
"I just reckon the year wasn't an entire loss." She stood up and took the hair pins from her pocket, then began to sloppily put the curls back in some kind of order. They corkscrewed out from the back of the pins, giving a wild, free sort of look that Teddy liked a great deal. She Conjured a mirror, made a face at it, then Vanished it and turned to Teddy. "As good as it's going to get, isn't it?"  
  
He didn't have a chance to answer, which was just as well, as he couldn't think of anything wise to say to her, because the door opened, and Donzo came out, closing the door quietly behind him as Hermione called the next witness. He looked up. "All right, Scrimgeour?"  
  
"All right, McCormack," she said. She looked at Teddy. "If I know Lupin, he didn't get breakfast before Hermione took him away. Let's get something to eat."  
  
There didn't seem to be anything else to say, so Teddy stood up and went with his friends to a little café near the Ministry lobby. Most of the witches and wizards there seemed to be Ministry employees, and paid little heed to them (though Arthur Weasley, down to get a cup of tea, gave them a wave on his way back to the lifts). Teddy got a large breakfast; the others got tea and toast.  
  
"I feel like we ought to be studying Animagus books," Ruthless said.  
  
Donzo smiled. "I could get the books. You still haven't got it, have you?"  
  
"I've been thinking about other things this year."  
  
"I'm legal!" Teddy realized. "I can teach you next year, and you won't even have to worry about getting sacked."  
  
This got the first genuine smile of the day from her. "I'll hold you to it," she said.  
  
The Azkaban guard Teddy had seen downstairs earlier stepped up to the counter and ordered something. Teddy cast a Muffling Charm and said, "Who is that?"  
  
"Azkaban guard," Ruthless said. "Edgecombe, I think. Her mother was one of the prisoners we released last summer. I think she took the job to look after her there. Why?"  
  
"Nothing. I guess she wouldn't be one of Cresswell's great followers, then."  
  
"Sam's what?"  
  
"Those nutters who paint pictures of him like some angel avenger," Teddy said. "Do you know how many there are?"  
  
"They do _what?_ " Donzo asked.  
  
Teddy explained.  
  
Donzo rolled his eyes. "I have a fan letter from one of them, I think."  
  
"You have the same fans as Sam?" Ruthless asked.  
  
"Not all of them. But this one wanted me to record a song about the glorious purge or something. Really bad lyrics, on top of being evil."  
  
"You're sure it wasn't from Phillips?" Teddy asked.  
  
"I doubt he's taken to sealing his letters with lipstick." Donzo shrugged. "And he thinks they're nutters, too. Right on the politics, but crazy."  
  
Teddy toyed with his eggs. "Ruthless, how many are there? Of those nutters?"  
  
"We haven't taken a census," she said. "Could be ten or thirty. I doubt any more than that." She frowned. "Wait, you were thinking that an Azkaban guard is one of them?"  
  
"It would make sense," Donzo said. "They deal with the Death Eaters every day, and probably think they're being coddled. And wasn't one of them mauled trying to protect prisoners when Greyback got free?"  
  
"Bloody..." Ruthless hissed through her teeth. "That could be a right ashwinder nest," she said. She shook her head. "No... Azkaban guards go through screening before they're taken on. It was a compromise after the war--people didn't want the Dementors to leave unless they could be sure human guards wouldn't let the prisoners out."  
  
"That's when the prisoners were Death Eaters," Donzo pointed out. "Now, we're talking about someone who wants the Death Eaters dead. And a prisoner who's apparently quite charming to..." He winced. "Sorry, Scrimgeour."  
  
Ruthless snorted. "I'm the last person to argue with that." She grimaced. "I'll tell Ron what you said, and he'll tell Harry. I don't think we have to worry about Azkaban guards, though. At least I hope not."  
  
They'd barely finished eating when an owl swooped in and landed in front of Donzo. She was carrying a message from the Headmistress, suggesting that they return to school, as she understood their testimony was over.  
  
"Not happy with you, is she?" Ruthless asked.  
  
"I've been gone a lot," Teddy said.  
  
He and Donzo went to the row of Floos, and went directly to Sprout's office. She looked at them, shook her head, and said, "I trust everything went well."  
  
Donzo assured her that it had gone as well as it could, then they left, taking the spiral staircase down together. On the seventh floor, they stopped long enough for Teddy to break the Charm on his clothes and turn them back into school robes, then went on to Defense Against the Dark Arts, which didn't provide much opportunity for discussion, as Robards had everyone listening to various objects, trying to ascertain which among them had been Cursed.  
  
It wasn't until quite late in the afternoon, sitting at the edge of the lake and feeding the Giant Squid, that they were able to talk about it again.  
  
"Cresswell kept at me about the Animagus business," Donzo said. "And he said I aided and abetted you in killing Greyback. Which I certainly hope I did."  
  
"Yes, you're quite guilty," Teddy said. "He essentially accused me of murdering Greyback."  
  
Donzo narrowed his eyes. "You didn't say you _did,_ did you?"  
  
"No. I have better places to spend the next few years than at Azkaban."  
  
"What does any of it have to do with proving his own innocence? It doesn't make sense. He all but admitted to the crimes."  
  
"He _did_ admit to them while he was interrogating Ruthless."  
  
"So he's not going to be set free."  
  
"No."  
  
"Which begs the question--if his followers are that upset that he's on trial, what are they going to do when he's convicted?"

* * *

As the trial went on in London, May brought a lush green world to Scotland. It also brought Victory Day--the last time Teddy would be in the place where his parents died on the anniversary of the battle. After supper, he went to the rocky ground under the north battlements and stayed there until the sun set. He used Dad's ring toward the end, let it take him to the memory of their wedding. He'd seen it before, but he savored it, anyway. It had been a horrible way to be forced into marriage--the Wizengamot had been debating the right of werewolves to marry even as the ceremony was going on downstairs--but they'd both been deliriously happy to be together, to love each other, to look forward to the future, however bleak it might become. When he went inside, he spent time with the portrait, letting Mum query him on the girls in his life, taking whatever advice Dad was in a mood to dispense, which included, as it had last year, a firm instruction to go downstairs to Victoire's birthday party. "And don't be morose there," Mum added. "Birthdays take precedence over death, at least this long after the fact."   
  
Teddy gave them his word on this, but thought they were checking up on him, as by the time he got downstairs, Dad and Sirius had slipped into a medieval landscape, and Mum had struck up a conversation with Sir Cadogan, who'd inhabited a fanciful illustration of Camelot for the evening. They shooed Teddy back to the living any time he tried to connect with them.  
  
He set out his crystal ball before going to sleep, and he dreamed kindly of them on the island he'd imagined for their benefit. They seemed to be getting further away sometimes, but that night, they all sat together on the steps of the Shrieking Shack, and didn't say much of anything.  
  
Teddy looked out across the water and said, "I miss you."  
  
"Not nearly as much as we miss you," Mum said. "But then again, we'd have been missing you soon enough if we were there with you."  
  
Teddy turned and shook his head. "I won't ever shut you out. And I wouldn't have. If."  
  
"You don't know that," Dad said, smiling faintly. "No young man thinks he's shutting mum and dad out when he goes out into the world, but I'm reasonably sure all the mums and dads feel it."  
  
Teddy didn't answer. The dream went on until he awakened the next morning.  
  
Geoff Phillips presented his report on their missing classmates in History of Magic. He'd managed to locate and contact seven of the eight still living abroad, and--Teddy was quite surprised--to get records from St. Mungo's of the fifteen women whose pregnancies had been forcibly terminated that year. Several of them had disappeared or died during the war, and of the others, only one had responded to his inquiry. He read her account aloud.  
  
"The Death Eaters who did it are all in Azkaban," he finished. "Alive and well." He sat down.  
  
"It's where they belong," Donzo said.  
  
"Right," Geoff said brusquely. "Protected from every side."  
  
"They attacked my mum, too," Donzo reminded him. "If one of us is going to be vengeful, it'll be me."  
  
"The lot of you live in a bubble."  
  
Teddy rolled his eyes. "It's true, we don't read _Nutters Monthly_."  
  
Geoff held up the letter he'd got. "Does she sound like a nutter to you, Lupin?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Nor to me. Not everyone who pricks a hole in your little bubble is a nutter."  
  
"No, just the ones who are nearly quoting a murderer."  
  
"Killing people makes Sam Cresswell crazy. It doesn't make him wrong on the facts. And I'm hardly the only one who thinks that. There wouldn't be any of the papers you call _Nutters Monthly_ if I were."  
  
"A lot of people thought Voldemort was the savior of the wizarding world, too," Donzo said. "Does that make it right?"  
  
"You're comparing Death Eaters and their victims?"  
  
Donzo sighed, obviously frustrated. "The school was hidden away because witches and wizards were being hunted by Muggles, some of them tipped off by Muggle-borns who'd been invited to come here. By _your own_ reasoning, it's the same. Where _do_ you draw the line?"  
  
Geoff didn't answer, and Binns forced the class back onto the topic of the underground resistance during the war. Teddy was scheduled to present his own paper the following week. Between papers, they had to go over everything they'd learned in the last seven years for their upcoming N.E.W.T.s, and there wasn't time for philosophical arguments.  
  
Most of Teddy's classes, in fact, had begun comprehensive reviews. Invented Potions were due in mid-May, and Teddy had finally managed to get one that worked with Laura's crystal ball photography. It didn't capture motion, but between them, they caught several shadowy figures and stunning bursts of light. He got full marks for it, but was immediately plunged into homework and tests meant to prepare him for examinations. In Charms, Flitwick started assigning essay after essay on Charms theory, as he was satisfied that everyone could perform on the practical, and in Divination, Teddy found himself bounced back and forth between Trelawney and Firenze to make sure he was proficient in every conceivable method and comfortable discussing the philosophy of the discipline. Defense Against the Dark Arts reflected the practical turn the class had taken since the war, and Teddy usually came out of these sessions dazed from deflecting any number of spells and curses. Trips to Maurice's were all business, and when the subject of Cresswell's trial came up anyway, it was impossible to talk in any depth.  
  
As the details of the crimes leaked out into the press, fewer and fewer people seemed inclined to sound like supporters, though a handful of younger students continued to wear Geoff's tee shirts. Uncle Harry wrote to say he was relieved by this receding wave of support for Sam, but Teddy had misgivings about it. Still, he supposed Uncle Harry knew more about that sort of thing than he did.  
  
At the end of the month, Maurice returned to Hogwarts with him after their Sunday tutoring session. Granny had put her foot down and told him she'd watch the store until he was finished with N.E.W.T.s. If Maurice could have single-handedly conferred sainthood, Teddy had a feeling Granny would have halo by now.  
  
The last weekend before N.E.W.T.s actually began, Teddy found himself on a grassy slope at the lake shore with Donzo, Maurice, Roger, Corky, and Honoria. It was a hot, lazy Saturday night, and well past curfew, though no one was bothering to look for them. A few fairies were flitting around the patches of wildflowers, but not much else was moving.  
  
"I thought you'd have finished up your series before exams," Maurice said to Honoria.  
  
"It's done," she said. "It's just question of running the last three. It's actually handy--I have my editorials ready during exams, so I won't have to write anything fresh."  
  
"You're really going to keep them going right up to the end, then," Donzo said.  
  
"Shouldn't I?"  
  
"Well, you could concentrate on your N.E.W.T.s rather than your newspaper."  
  
"I'm looking for an apprenticeship at the _Prophet_. Believe me, Rita will be kinder about low marks than letting the paper slip at this point."  
  
"Hagrid doesn't care about my marks," Roger said. "He had the job before he even got a N.E.W.T.--he only got one after the war, when Harry Potter got the Ministry to let him finish school."  
  
Teddy sighed and rolled over onto his stomach. "I'm looking for a Ministry apprenticeship. They want me to get good marks in everything."  
  
"Well, then clearly it'll be impossible." Donzo got out his guitar. He was sitting cross-legged on the ground, and balanced it on his knee. "I, on the other hand, have nothing special to worry about. How about some music? All right, Maurice, or do I need to get a cover charge here?"  
  
"Special dispensation," Maurice said, waving his hand lazily.  
  
Donzo started playing something quiet on the guitar, just improvising--Teddy had long since learned to tell the difference between that and real songs--but stopped after a bit. He rested his hand on the guitar's body. The pick glinted in the late red sunset. "It's really almost over, isn't it?"  
  
"Don't get maudlin," Corky said.  
  
"I'm not. I just feel like we should do something."  
  
"Does Lupin have a crisis?" Honoria asked. "We could end like we started."  
  
"Sorry," Teddy said. "My only crisis is that I can't remember who led the goblin revolt of 1467."  
  
Corky laughed. "Well, it's only the beginning of June. Plenty of time for something to come up."  
  
"Let's get through N.E.W.T.s first," Teddy said.  
  
Maurice shook his head sadly. "You're getting boring in your dotage."  
  
Teddy smiled, and let the warm breeze and his friends' voices lull him off to sleep. He dreamed of his island. Dad and Mum and Sirius were there, but they didn't notice him. They were having an argument about Azkaban. Sirius was saying he could swim there as a dog. Teddy lost the thread of it.  
  
It was dawn when he was shaken awake. Professors Longbottom and Hagrid were going around among them, smirks on their faces, waking all of them up.  
  
"I should take points," Professor Longbottom said, "but I won't. Come back to the castle. It's nearly breakfast time."  
  
The ground was damp, and they were all stretching out their aches and pains as they walked silently back to the castle, following the professors inside. A few early morning risers were already there, munching on toast and jam. Teddy and his friends all sat at the Slytherin table.  
  
Just as he was getting ready to tuck into a plate of bacon, Teddy heard an owl call as it swooped in. Another followed. The morning edition of the Sunday _Prophet_.  
  
It fell onto the table in front of Honoria, and she unfolded it.  
  
Splashed across the front page was a picture of Sam Cresswell being led from the Department of Mysteries in chains. He was obviously shouting over his shoulder at people in the front row of the galleries.  
  
The four inch headline said it all:

**GUILTY.**


	26. Guilty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is declared guilty, and Teddy has a moment of believing it's all over... until Ruthless arrives with dire news.

An owl arrived the next morning at breakfast, with a letter from Ruthless.  
  
 _Dear Teddy,  
I had the distinct pleasure of slamming the cell door on Sam at Azkaban. I hope the bastard hears that sound in his dreams for the next eighty years. As a means of mental Healing, I highly recommend it.  
  
With that mess over, the office is having a party just now. We've dismantled Sam's cubicle and moved it to an entirely different place, so no one is stuck with that particular ghost. Anthony Goldstein isn't really celebrating, since Sam was his apprentice, but we're trying to cheer him up. It's not his fault, after all.  
  
Ginny and the kids showed up and made a great show of bullying Harry into taking the holiday he promised, now that this is over. James, of course, makes a great show of everything, and had the whole place laughing, Harry included, about a melodrama where he's neglected and begging in the street for some kind stranger to take him on a holiday, since his father never does, and so on. I understand they're going to the Cloaked Isles. He said you didn't want to go, which I thinks confirms that you're mad. Sun! For two weeks! Of course, Ginny and Lily will come back as walking freckles, if their skin's anything like mine (and it looks it), but wouldn't that be great anyway? I'd like to go somewhere sunny, once I get some gold saved.  
  
He'd have gone without the bullying, of course. He promised, and everything's pretty calm. I was worried about those nutters with the signs, but they seem to have wandered off to whatever Crazy-land they call home. I saw some of them in Diagon Alley with new signs protesting a Moonhowlers' song. Something about the lyrics being mean-spirited. It wasn't clear, but whatever it is, they're off on a new tangent, which seems pretty harmless. More power to them. All that worry for nothing!  
  
I've visited your grandmother at Borgin and Burke's. You never told me how much she knew about dark artifacts. And I didn't realize she'd patched things up with her sister. Lucius and Narcissa were both there. It was a little disturbing, if you'd like the truth of it, but she was as wonderful as ever. I find that I rather miss having Maurice to drop in on at all hours, though I doubt he'd believe you if you told him.  
  
All of which is to tell you that I'm fine, your grandmother is amusingly satisfied, the Division is well under control, and your godfather's biggest problem is likely to be a sunburn. Which means that you can now take your N.E.W.T.s in peace. Maddie Apcarne sends good luck to you. I won't bother. You're brilliant; you'll do perfectly well.  
  
Love,  
Ruthless_  
  
Teddy read it twice, looking for any clues that things weren't as good as she was saying they were. He didn't like the sudden silence from Sam's fan club--they didn't seem the type for it--but Ruthless would be in a better position to judge that than he was. Even more telling was Uncle Harry taking a holiday. He needed one, but he wouldn't have left if he thought something might go wrong.  
  
"Good news?" Victoire asked.  
  
"Uncle Harry's going on holiday," he offered.  
  
"The ancients prophesied that would happen one day," she said, buttering her toast. "I think it's supposed to immediately precede a total eclipse, the apocalypse, and you not worrying needlessly about things anymore, though personally, I'm a doubter."  
  
He stuck out his tongue at her. She rolled her eyes and got out her O.W.L. review materials. Each book was bedecked with color-coded tags, and she carried a box of notecards that she seemed to be quizzing herself on. Teddy offered to quiz her instead, but she told him he ought to be about his own work.  
  
The N.E.W.T. examiners arrived the next day. There was no need to appropriate the Great Hall for fifteen students, so most of Teddy's written examinations were in the antechamber. History of Magic turned out to be a good deal simpler than Binns' class had been, with very few specific dates on the goblin wars, and more theoretical questions about cause and effect. This was much closer to Teddy's own tastes, and to the way he remembered history, and he thought he did rather well. Theoretical exams in Charms, Defense, Divination, and Potions were harder, but he was confident. Practical exams were slated for the following week, and Teddy met with his friends on Saturday to get as much practice as they could at anything and everything.  
  
"Do you suppose they'll try to Curse us in Defense?" Maurice asked. "Would they be allowed? They didn't in O.W.L.s, but could they in N.E.W.T.s?"  
  
"Just you, Burke," Corky said, casting random Charms that Honoria was reading to him out of a stack of all the books they'd used for the past seven years. A candlestick grew legs and did a pirouette. He frowned at it. "Why is there a Charm for that? Who said, 'I really want my candles to do ballet'?"  
  
"Maybe someone made it for a show," Donzo suggested.  
  
Jane Hunter looked up from a potion she was trying to brew from memory (it didn't look right to Teddy) and said, "More likely, it was someone's mum trying to keep the house quiet while she got her work done." She sniffed the potion and wrinkled her nose. "All right, Lupin, I can see you dying to jump in. What did I do?"  
  
Teddy checked her ingredients and went over her work. "I think your armadillo bile didn't dry enough before you put it in."  
  
"What am I meant to do about that in a timed examination?"  
  
"That's what Charms are for," Tinny said. "Just use one of the drying charms."  
  
"One of the light ones," Teddy agreed. "It's not best practices, but if they give you the wrong armadillo bile, you have to do something. I doubt they'll give you one this finicky with the clock ticking, though."  
  
He spent the next hour with Laura, going over Divination methods. Since neither of them had bothered with tea leaves since third year, they both suspected this might be expected of them, and quaffed enough tea for six people each. Corky finally made them stop when he noted that they were speaking too quickly for anyone to understand a prediction. He didn't get to sleep until nearly three, and that was only after a very long flight out over the Forbidden Forest, during which his feathers got quite soaked by a spring rainstorm.  
  
The next morning, he had a letter from the Potter children, showing the family in summer clothes (Aunt Ginny looked quite pretty in a blue flowered robe), standing in front of a wizard who was dressed in a Neddy the Kneazle costume, pretending to examine Lily's ear for clues. They all looked quite happy. James said that Martian and Checkmate ought to come to the Cloaked Islands for their next adventure. He seemed quite keen to have them stuck there through one of the periodic fluctuations in the Cloaking Charm, which made it necessary to come and go without magic for a while. He'd apparently had a ride in a sailboat, and was now fascinated with all things nautical.  
  
Divination was the first practical exam, and it was in Firenze's classroom. To his surprise, the examiner was Mr. Croaker from the Department.  
  
Teddy had to demonstrate the knowledge of general interpretation in several disciplines, then choose which he would use in given situations. He expected to be asked for a vision, but Croaker laughed. "How would I mark you on a vision? We wouldn't know until well after today whether or not it came true, would we?"  
  
"Er..."  
  
"I know, I know. That's in O.W.L.s. It's mainly used to weed out the fakes, if you want the truth. It's more important that you know which tools you'd use." He closed his notebook and said, "Mr. Lupin, you've had ample opportunity to demonstrate that you have the gift for this. I shall give you an Outstanding, but I should like to talk to you privately before I do so."  
  
"Have I done something wrong?"  
  
"Oh, nothing like that." Croaker smiled. "I assure you, we have great faith in your abilities. My concern is as someone who's worked with a great many Seers. Do you understand the limitations of Divinatory magic?"  
  
"There was an essay on the written section, about fluctuations in time, and--"  
  
"Do you understand, Mr. Lupin, that you can't always do anything about what you've Seen?"  
  
Teddy thought about it, then nodded. "I understand," he said, "but that doesn't mean I'm free not to try."  
  
"Don't you mean, 'not free to try'?"  
  
"Not at all."  
  
Croaker smiled again. "Ah. I see. Well, I haven't had a Gryffindor Unspeakable in my tenure at the Department. This should be interesting." He stood and offered his hand.  
  
Teddy shook it.  
  
Examinations went on.

Potions was the most technically difficult of the practical examinations. While Teddy had been right that they refrained from asking for the brewing of complicated potions from memory, the actual process had been one that he hadn't foreseen at all--they asked for the identification of ten potions by testing with available materials, with a recitation of their ingredients, and--in the case of four poisons--their proper antidotes. There'd been a little class work on the subject of identification, but not a lot; the examiner said it was because this proved they understood how to apply theory, rather than simply memorize procedures and ingredients. Teddy felt he succeeded at the test, but it seemed unfair, in retrospect.  
  
Charms turned out to be chaotic. Rather than drill the charms they'd learned, as it had been in O.W.L.s, they were told to achieve particular effects. Since several charms had very similar results, there could have been any number of right answers. Teddy was comfortable with this, but Joe Palmer had a meltdown, and it took most of the week for vines to stop growing out of the walls. Transfiguration was more straightforward, and everyone did well.  
  
To his utter shock, Ron Weasley was the examiner in Defense Against the Dark Arts.  
  
"Harry usually does it," he said when he noticed the look on Teddy's face. "He was going to come back long enough to do it this year, but--"  
  
"Holiday," Teddy said.  
  
"Well, yeah. And there's a storm, so he's stuck there. Besides, he might play favorites in this class." Ron grinned. "I think you'll like this test. Harry designed it from something his favorite Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher did once."  
  
Ron led the seventh year Defense students to the Quidditch pitch, instructing them to wait in the locker room while each took the examination. Teddy was fourth, and when his turn came, Ron signaled to him to come out.  
  
Instead of the open Quidditch pitch, there was a stone wall with a heavy wooden door in it, blocking the way.  
  
"Am I storming the castle?"  
  
"Sort of," Ron said. "Don't worry, it's not a maze." He smiled. "It's just an obstacle course. All you have to do is get through to the other side."  
  
"Without dying."  
  
"Right, Teddy, every year, Harry tries to kill a few N.E.W.T. students. Everyone needs a hobby." Ron rolled his eyes. "Nothing's actually deadly. If you can't handle something, the test stops."  
  
"And so do my marks on it."  
  
"Exactly. Tame, compared to some of your other years." He held up a watch. "Your time begins now."  
  
Teddy headed for the heavy door, meaning to open it, then realized that would be a foolish way to start. He tested it first for trace magic, and of course, it had been cursed. He checked over his shoulder, and saw Ron watching him impassively.  
  
He broke the curse on the door and went in.  
  
He found himself in a walled garden. There were a few easily recognizable threats here at the gate--poisonous plants, an eager hinkypunk, other easily avoidable dangers. Looking down the path, Teddy could see that it became more dangerous as it went; he guessed that he would progress through the various years of his education, though he didn't take it for granted that everything would be in order.  
  
He barely heard the rustling in the bush in time to see the Red Cap run out at him. He hadn't seen a single one since his second year, though in first year, the grounds had still been infested. He pointed his wand and called out, " _Exsicco!_ "  
  
The Red Cap's cap burst into flames, drying the blood that ran down around its ears. It fell to the ground and disintegrated.  
  
Something bumped against Teddy's leg. He looked down and saw the hinkypunk, looking up at him rather forlornly. It hopped a few hops toward what looked like a swamp. Teddy shook his head. The hinkypunk hopped away.  
  
He braced himself and went further in.  
  
The threats became more frequent, and Teddy found himself habitually using the detection spells to find trace curses. In the middle of the garden, a moat stretched entirely across the pitch, and he was forced to swim and deal with a handful of water demons. On the far side, after drying himself off, he had to break a curse on a necklace before it destroyed the mannequin it had been placed on, physically fight off a charmed suit of armor, and get through a wall of twisting, thorny vines that were blocking the way. (He tried transforming into a hawk to get past this, but it was nearly disastrous, as the vines reached up for him, and he barely got away.)  He stopped trying for shortcuts and did the proper spells to open an arch in the wall.  
  
He came out on the other side of them and found Ron, wand raised.  
  
There were no dueling club rituals; the curses came flying, nonverbal, out of nowhere, and all Teddy could do was react--Shield Charms, counter-curses, whatever he could think of. Ron didn't budge.  
  
Finally, Teddy managed to hit him with a simple leg-locker, something so far under the level of what he was doing that he didn't block it. Teddy leapt into the air, transformed to get better height, and landed on top of the last wall. Ron aimed his wand, but Teddy blasted him backward.  
  
Ron smiled, raised his wand again, and said, " _Finite incantatem totalis_." He stood and held out his hand.  
  
Teddy flew down and transformed again, then shook it. "Do I pass, or do I need to open the door here?"  
  
"The door's safe," Ron said. "You're clear. And with the best time so far. Congratulations, Teddy."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"You're sure you don't want to join the Auror Division?"  
  
Teddy rolled his eyes, shook his head, and left the obstacle course.  
  
It was the last of Teddy's exams, and technically, he could have gone out the front gate and not come back. He had no desire to do that before the leaving ceremony, though. Instead, he spent warm days by the lake, walking along the rocks, looking up at the castle. He went to Hagrid's and helped with the hippogriffs (Roger and Donzo had their exam on Friday, the last of the practical N.E.W.T.s, so they were there quite a bit, working on the other animals). He flew with Dapple, and even took Victoire for a flight. She couldn't take a _long_ flight, she said, as the O.W.L.s were in full swing now, but it seemed to make her happy, and he liked the feel of having her behind him, her arms around him, and her cheek resting against his back. He might have kissed her when they got down--and he reminded himself later that it was probably just as well that he hadn't--except that Story and some of her other friends were waiting for her, and they had a lot of work to do.  
  
The fifth years' O.W.L.s had to be staggered over most of the month, which was one of the reasons the N.E.W.T.s had been rather early--the huge classes that Victoire was in tended to dominate the school's culture. As the seventh years wound down from their own exams and prepared to leave for good, an almost holy hush seemed to settle on Teddy's life. He packed his room slowly and carefully. It would be James's next year (provided he was in Gryffindor, of course, but Teddy didn't think that was really in doubt), and he used the time afforded to him to hide the Keys to the Castle and a few other choice items. The Marauder's Map, he would find a way to give James directly; he wouldn't risk it getting lost. He still wasn't sure exactly how he was going to let it go.  
  
"You'll do it, though," Sirius told him from the portrait, obviously irritated. "What bloody good will it do you outside Hogwarts?"  
  
"I know, but--"  
  
"But nothing," Dad said. "We created it. The Weasley twins saved it. Harry brought it back to us. You brought it back to life. Now, it's James's turn to do something, if he wants to."  
  
"It'll mean giving him your wand, too."  
  
"You knew that when you bound them together."  
  
"Yeah. I know." He sat down on his bed and scooped Checkmate up from the pillow (she gave him a dirty look, as she'd been asleep). "I'll do it. I have to find the right way, though. I mean, there really should be some sort of ritual..."  
  
As he'd expected, Sirius took this theme and ran with it, suggesting ever more elaborate ways that the Map could be passed. Teddy let him talk the subject down.  
  
Uncle Harry had been due back three days ago, but the shielding on the Cloaked Islands was still being troublesome. The longest day of the year came, and most of the school (Victoire's year being a notable exception) was done. There was a cheerful atmosphere over everything, and the school was celebrating the long stretch of sunlight with an ongoing feast in the Great Hall. It was nine o'clock and still quite light out, and Teddy was playing chess with Donzo. Nothing was further from his mind than the Ministry of Magic, Sam Cresswell, or his mad followers.  
  
The preternatural lull ended with the doors of the Great Hall crashing open.  
  
Ruthless, looking pale and furious, called, "Professor Longbottom! Robards!" She looked around. "Lupin and McCormack, you too."

"What is it?" Teddy asked, running to her.  
  
"We're not entirely sure." She gave him a small, nervous smile. "Let's not alarm the younger students, all right? That's why I didn't send my Patronus with a message. I Flooed to the Headmistress's office."  
  
His heart beating wildly, Teddy waited for the others, and followed her out. Professor Longbottom opened up a classroom and let them in, closing the door behind him.  
  
"What's happening, Scrimgeour? Has Cresswell escaped?"  
  
"No," Ruthless said. "The first thing I did was call Azkaban. The guards said he was behaving himself. A model prisoner. No visitors."  
  
"Then what?"  
  
Ruthless took a deep breath and said, "The Ministry's been Sealed."  
  
"What?" Robards looked aghast. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Exits, entrances. They did it at the change of shift--I was late, or I'd be there, too. No one can get in or out."  
  
"We need to go!" Professor Longbottom said.  
  
"No!" Ruthless held up her hand. "Wait." She raised her wand, and Teddy had a brief glimpse of her fox Patronus before it disappeared with a message. "There are a lot of talented witches and wizards inside the Ministry working on this," she said. "They've been working since six, and I've been helping them, but they're more worried about other things.  They're not in any danger, or at least that's what Ron says. They need us to--"  
  
The fireplace sprang to life, the flames bright green. Hermione Weasley's head appeared among them. "Neville," she said. "Gawain--and Teddy and Donzo. Good call, Ruth."  
  
"Are you safe?" Professor Longbottom asked.  
  
"As far as we can tell," Hermione told him. "We have food, air, and nothing is coming for us. But we're trapped."  
  
"What about the Floo?" Robards asked. "If you can--"  
  
"Trust me, we've tried to get all the way through," Hermione said. "And I don't trust this connection to stay open long at all."  
  
"What's happening?" Donzo asked. "Is this Cresswell?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Just before we sent Ruth off, we had a Howler in the lobby. It said that the longest daylight was going to... shine in the last corners or something absurd like that. There would be justice for the guilty."  
  
"How many of the guilty?" Teddy asked.  
  
"I don't know." Hermione looked around suddenly and said, "The connection's been detected. I have to go. _Get to them._ "  
  
The fire went out; Hermione disappeared.  
  
"I'll get to Malfoy Manor," Robards said. "That's an obvious one."  
  
"Go," Ruthless said. Robards disappeared through the fireplace. Ruthless looked at the others. "I have a list of people who were released. I don't know if it's exhaustive of all the people they hate, or--"  
  
"Phillips," Donzo said.  
  
"Geoffrey?"  
  
Donzo nodded. "He gets all their rubbish by owl post. He'll know who they hate."  
  
"Get him," Ruthless said.  
  
Donzo sent his Patronus.  
  
"Phillips will come for that?" Professor Longbottom asked skeptically.  
  
"I sent it to Franklin," Donzo said. "He'll drag him kicking and screaming if necessary."  
  
"Is anyone on Rita Skeeter?" Teddy asked.  
  
"No, not yet."  
  
"I am," Professor Longbottom said. "I'll get to the _Prophet_ offices. They're all tied up in it."  
  
"Good, go," Ruthless said.  
  
Longbottom swept out.  
  
The door burst open. Teddy turned, expecting to see Franklin and Geoff, but instead, it was Maurice. He ran to Donzo. "What the hell is going on?" he asked. "I was with Driscoll, he's getting Phillips--"  
  
"Cresswell's people," Ruthless said.  
  
Maurice stopped, blinked at her, and said, "They took the special protections off the shop when Cresswell went to Azkaban."  
  
This hung in the air for less than a second, but in that second, everything seemed to come crystal clear. Teddy felt the world freeze, a single face coming into his mind with the force of a blow to the head.  
  
"Granny," he whispered.  
  
"Go now," Ruthless said. "I have to wait for Phillips and whatever he has, but I'll be there as soon as I can."  
  
Maurice was already at the fireplace. He tossed in a Floo cube and cried "Borgin and Burke's!"  
  
Teddy followed.  
  
He spun through the emptiness between the Floos, the world between worlds, then felt himself snagged toward Knockturn Alley. He spun out of the fireplace into Borgin and Burke's.  
  
There was a body on the floor.  
  
"Granny!"  
  
"No," Maurice said. "I don't recognize her. The merchandise protected itself."  
  
Teddy came around. A string of pearls had wrapped itself around the woman's neck and strangled her.   
  
"Where's Granny?"  
  
"I don't know," Maurice said. "Mrs. Tonks! Andromeda!"  
  
"Granny!"  
  
There was no answer. A tea set sat on a table near the counter. It had been set for four. The teapot was overturned.  
  
The Floo lit up and Donzo came through. "Teddy, Robards came back," he said. "Draco's wife and children were at the Manor. Robards got them out. But Draco and his parents were _here_."  
  
"With Granny," Teddy said. "Oh, God, she was trying to reconcile with her sister." He stood up, burying his hands in his hair. Nothing seemed to be coming together. Nothing--  
  
A distant crash of glass broke through the glistening silence in his head. Somewhere down Diagon Alley, someone was screaming, and someone else was laughing.  
  
"They're still here," Maurice said, and ran out.  
  
"Maurice, no!" Donzo yelled.  
  
Teddy ran out after them.  
  
Four witches were dragging a hag out of her shop. "Time for you to face real justice!" one of them cackled.  
  
"Please, no!" the hag pleaded. "Help me! Help me! I never did nothing! Never sold them nothing! They hated me, too!"  
  
The women grabbed her, and before Teddy could do anything, Disapparated.  
  
Teddy stared after them.  
  
"Teddy."  
  
He didn't turn.  
  
"Teddy, Maurice," Donzo said. "Look."  
  
Teddy turned around.  
  
Across the front of Borgin and Burke's, the word "GUILTY" had been painted with a splash of green paint.  
  
With an angry swipe of his wand, Maurice erased it. "I'm not guilty of anything."  
  
"Where is my grandmother?" Teddy asked.  
  
Donzo bent down and picked something up off the ground. It seemed to be a handful of twigs... until he got close.  
  
It was three shattered wands.  
  
Teddy shook his head. One of them was Granny's. "No. Granny wouldn't let them take her wand. She's a strong witch. So is Narcissa. And Draco was there. She--"  
  
"She was serving tea on a calm night," Maurice said. "The goddamned war is meant to be over." He raised his wand and uselessly cursed a cobblestone. It leapt into the air and exploded. "Teddy, I'm sorry, she wouldn't have been here if I hadn't come back to school, and I could've come back, I could've left days ago, I could've--"  
  
"If you had, they'd have had just as good a chance of snatching her from Malfoy Manor," Donzo said. "We have to figure out where they're going."  
  
"Azkaban."  
  
They looked up.  
  
Standing in the door of Borgin and Burke's was Geoffrey Phillips, flanked by Franklin Driscoll and Lizzie Richardson.  
  
Teddy rushed him and grabbed him by the front of his wretched tee shirt. "What do you know?"  
  
Geoff pulled away, wand drawn. "Let go of me, you idiot. I'm helping."  
  
"Out of the goodness of your heart, I'm sure," Maurice said.  
  
"I'm not going to let these stupid twits turn bigots into martyrs." Geoffrey looked down his nose. "They've been going on for ages in the newsletters about who really belongs in Azkaban. If you were trying to serve justice to the guilty, where would you take them?"  
  
"The guards said things were all right there," Donzo said. "Ruthless talked to them."  
  
"Which guards would those be?" Geoffrey asked, smiling faintly. "The ones who wrote these?" He tipped his wand, and a stack of newsletters appeared. One of them fluttered open to a long piece which Teddy didn't need to read--the headline was enough: "Justice Failed: An Insider's View of Soft Time At Azkaban."  
  
"Bloody..." Donzo drew in his breath. "How in the hell are we going to get to Azkaban? We can't Apparate, and they'll be watching for broomsticks--and they'd take too long anyway--"  
  
"Boats," Teddy said. "It's how Greyback's people got in."  
  
"Oh, good," Maurice said. "If we start sailing now, we should make it by July."  
  
"We're not going from here," Teddy said. "I have somewhere that's much closer. My island. I can Expand the boat, and we can get there quickly. We can--"  
  
He was interrupted by a series of soft popping sounds.  
  
In the street outside Borgin and Burke's, Corky Atkinson and Honoria Higgs appeared, followed by Brendan Lynch and Jane Hunter. Connie Deverill arrived with Joe Palmer, who stepped out of the way just in time for Tinny Gudgeon and Laura Chapman to appear. Finally, Roger Young, covered with hay, came into the circle.  
  
Teddy stared at them.  
  
Tinny stepped forward. "So, what are we doing?" she asked.


	27. A Midsummer Night's Jailbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Teddy discovers that his grandmother and the Malfoys have been taken by Sam's people, he also discovers that he doesn't have to act alone... his entire year joins him for a rescue operation at Azkaban.

Teddy let Donzo explain the situation. He sent a Patronus to Ruthless, telling her what they knew, and she appeared as Donzo finished up.  
  
"Maurice," she said, "we need to go into the shop for a moment."  
  
"Ruth, there are enough of us," Maurice said. "Shouldn't you go look after the other people these idiots are going for?"  
  
She shook her head. "Longbottom's getting together everyone who's not in the Ministry. Last I knew, Harry was trying to get past the barriers in the Cloaked Islands. Right now, if you're breaking into Azkaban, you need an Auror who knows the way around."  
  
Maurice opened the door to the shop.  
  
Ruthless went to the counter and cleared it. She waved her wand, and an image of Azkaban appeared. "It's not an easy approach," she said. "They'll be watching for brooms, and you can't Apparate..."  
  
"We're taking a boat," Teddy said. "From my island. Like Greyback's people."  
  
Ruthless sighed. "We've blocked off the cove where they hid and climbed up. Someone will need to get inside to lift the grate. There's no other decent sea access, and honestly, that way's not very easy." She pointed her wand at the image, and it turned, growing to show a more detailed view of the cliff face. Teddy could see iron bars lodged into the opening of what looked like a tall, a narrow cave. Ruthless studied it for a long time, then said, "McCormack, you can get in."  
  
"Me?"  
  
She nodded. "There are old dungeons. We don't use them anymore, but they're deep inside the island. There's a shaft that was used to get air in. You can get through it as a raccoon."  
  
"Disillusion yourself," Teddy said. "We may not use the dungeons, but these people might think they're just right. Which brings us to another point--I'll fly around and get as much information as I can and come back to the boat. Let's not go in blind if we can help it."  
  
"Or unarmed," Maurice said. He flicked his wand at a box, and it flew over to the table. Inside of it were ceremonial daggers. "Everyone take one. You can lash them to your legs or arms. If you lose your wand, you'll still be able to defend yourselves." He looked around at several people who were squirming. "Look," he said, "we're not going for tea. If you're not ready to fight, go back to school."  
  
Donzo reached over and took a dagger. "We'll fight," he said. "But we don't need to make it a bloodbath."  
  
Everyone took one. Teddy attached his to his arm. Most of the girls chose their legs.  
  
Ruthless re-focused the image again, this time pulling out to show the island. "Teddy, what are the coordinates of your place?" He told her, and she added it in. In the map, the looked nearly on top of one of another. "Nice holiday choice," she said. " _Really_ , Teddy."  
  
"I didn't realize it was _that_ close."  
  
"I'd say it's five miles northeast," Ruthless said. "The sea'll be choppy, so we'll have to steady the boat magically... unless someone really knows their way around boats?"  
  
"I fish with my dad," Brendan Lynch offered. "But we use spells to steady the boat. I can do them."  
  
"Good," Teddy said. "But won't they detect the spells?"  
  
"They're not all that bright," Donzo said.  
  
"They Sealed the Ministry."  
  
Ruthless wrinkled her nose. "There aren't many wizards alive who could actually _beat_ that security, so I'm willing to guess they just triggered some emergency containment that already existed. We're not dealing with evil geniuses here." She bit her lip. "Still, let's not get too close with the spell on. They've probably broken Sam out, and he _does_ know what he's doing. When we're close, we'll just have to deal with the water."  
  
"No one ought to go off alone," Tinny said. "At least not once Donzo gets us in there. Make sure everyone's watching someone's back."  
  
"That's a good point," Ruthless agreed. "And while we're at it, I want to make another one. Sam's people are going to go after the prisoners. I'm sure of it. And we know they have Lucius Malfoy. You're going to want to help them take care of themselves. But remember--they're in Azkaban for a reason. Don't start thinking they're going to gratefully let you be, so you can lock them up again after we finish. These are Death Eaters, not cuddly little kittens. Defend them, but don't arm them if you can help it."  
  
There was no response to this.  
  
Teddy took a deep breath. "I'll go ahead to the island and let the security spells down. Follow in five minutes."  
  
He Disapparated.  
  
He found himself on the windy cliff-top on the island's north face, looking down at the angry sea below. The light of the midsummer night sun lit everything in a pale golden glow. The Hogboon's mound stretched away from him at the bottom of the hill, the tiny shack nestled at its base; it seemed quiet, but he thought it would be wise to have everyone Apparate in a bit further away. He went down to the cove where the old, rotted rowboat was still waiting in the water, where it had been waiting for season after season since Dad and Sirius had used it. The boards were rotted in several places and the central seat had caved in from some unknown pressure over time. A tattered old blanket lay in a muddy lump at one end.  
  
Still, it would be easier than Conjuring from nothing. He'd read enough about magical pirates to know what he needed.  
  
Teddy raised his wand at the boat and said, "Let's see what we can make of you. _Carina magnus_." The boat rose up in the water and grew, a keel spreading out beneath it. He waited for it to finish, then said, " _Constrata Navis_ ," and the boat's flooring spread out, evened itself, and became solid. He grew the ribs of the boat, and finally shored up its hull, then sent back a Patronus to London with the message, "Now."  
  
Ruthless and Tinny came first, then Franklin and Donzo pulled along an irritated-looking Geoff ("I told you I'd help," he muttered). Honoria arrived alone, then Maurice and Corky. In a moment, the bank of the tiny inlet was crowded.  
  
"Nice boat," Brendan said. "Conjured?"  
  
Teddy shook his head. "Transfigured. It should last longer than a Conjuring."  
  
"Here's hoping," Joe Palmer said dubiously. "Well, let's go." He Conjured a gangplank and started up.  
  
Lizzie shook her head. "No, wait. Let's try and keep track of where we're going!"  
  
"We're going to Azkaban," Roger said slowly. "Remember?"  
  
"And you can see it at five miles away?" Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Honestly. Boys. Do you even know which direction you're _facing_?"  
  
"Due east," Maurice said, doing a Point-Me spell.  
  
"And the prison's southeast," Ruthless reminded her.  
  
" _Exactly_ southeast?" Franklin asked. "It looked more east-southeast. Could you...?" He twirled his finger to mime a wand.  
  
Ruthless re-Conjured her floating map, now orienting it to where they were standing.  
  
Franklin reached into his bag and pulled out a compass. "I made one for my broomstick," he said. "For when I'm just flying around. The ones in the repair kits are worthless. This'll keep us on track. It does everything my mum's airplane equipment does. Including autopilot. Attach it to the bow."  
  
Teddy nodded. "Good. That'll do it. Lynch, are you ready to keep us steady?"  
  
"Yeah," Brendan said. "I guess."  
  
"Don't guess," Honoria said.  
  
"Fine. I know. Is that better?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
There was nothing else to keep them, and every reason to hurry, but for a moment, they stood there at the edge of the water, Joe halfway up the ramp, the others standing shoulder to shoulder in the warm night. Teddy thought of the Hogwarts lake stretching away from them on the first night as they stood waiting for the boats, and he was apparently not the only one, as Honoria smiled at him warmly and said, "Seems we've been here before."  
  
Teddy smiled back. "Let's go."  
  
Joe widened the gangplank as soon as he got to the top, and steadied it as the others came up. Teddy went to the front of the boat, where Franklin was affixing his compass and Brendan was starting the wave-calming spells, which showed as a smooth path out in the midst of the churning water.  
  
"We should stop this spell at least half a mile away," he said. "It's pretty visible in the sunlight."  
  
Brendan nodded.  
  
Teddy turned around. "Is everyone on board?"  
  
They were--they lined the deck, looking somber and ready. Tinny and Laura were already setting up the teams who would go in together when the time came. Ruthless, looking grave, was climbing up to the crow's nest.  
  
"Then we go," Teddy said.  
  
With no fanfare, the boat slipped out of its docking, the gangplank vanishing into nothing as, for the second and last time, they glided out onto the water together.

Half a mile away from Azkaban, Brendan ended the calming spell on the sea around the boat, and it began to heave alarmingly with the sea. Teddy had assumed they'd need to Conjure oars from here, but Hagrid had introduced Roger to several of the local selkies, and they appeared, in seal form, when he called out to them, helping to guide the boat the rest of the way.  
  
There was a signal fire burning atop the rock, and guards watching the skies from the walls, but no one saw as the boat slipped into the shadowed cove. They came to rest beside the high iron gate.  
  
Ruthless climbed down from the crow's nest and looked over her shoulder. "They're not looking this way," she whispered. "McCormack--the shaft is there. " She pointed to an opening about ten feet up. "Can you get to it?"  
  
Donzo nodded. "Just a little rock climbing. Unless Teddy can give me a lift up there?"  
  
"Will you be able to get enough traction if you're feather-light?"  
  
"Yeah. Might even make the climb easier."  
  
"Right, then," Ruthless said. "When you get into the dungeons, you'll go up the corridor toward the stairs. There's a room off to the side. That's where the winch for the gate is."  
  
Donzo transformed. Teddy Charmed him feather-light, Disillusioned him, then transformed himself. He felt the spreading cracked egg sensation of a Disillusionment charm and looked up at Ruthless, who rolled her eyes at him.  
  
Through his hawk's eyes, the Disillusionment on Donzo was useless. To the humans, he'd certainly seem invisible, but to Teddy, the distortion of his shape and the tiny shadows of his fur were perfectly clear. He took off, grabbed Donzo by the scruff, and flew him up to the vent.  
  
Donzo had to scramble for purchase, but Teddy held him steady until he got inside and scurried away. Teddy swooped back down over the boat, where his classmates were watching nothing at all quite anxiously. He flew over their heads, tapping Ruthless to tell her that he was on his way, then circled up into the sky.  
  
Azkaban rose out of the sea like the turret of a dark and fabulous undersea castle, its ragged cliffs the work of a bitter stonecutter. Most islands here were home to seabirds, but Azkaban was barren of all but the coldest and hardiest of non-human life--lichens, seaweed, even some clinging barnacles below the tide line. Waves crashed incessantly on the rocks. There were people who thought that Dementors were native to this island, and being here, Teddy could almost believe it, though he knew better. Perhaps there had been a time when it was nothing more than a wild island, not terribly different from Teddy's own, but centuries of intimacy with evil had given it a kind of shadowy vibrancy, a Stygian consciousness that grew around it like a murky aura.  
  
Teddy circled as close as he could to the cliff walls. There were cell windows here--less, he suspected, to give prisoners a view than to let in the damp and cold--and he could see into the cells. Many of the prisoners were standing at the bars, looking out into the corridors. Teddy took a chance and landed on one sill long enough to see a pair of guards patrolling. They were clearly not the regular staff, as they weren't in uniform, but beyond that, Teddy could see very little.  
  
He took off again and flew to the top of the island, to the flat area at the top where prisoners were brought in from the air. He counted eight witches at the guard posts, and two wizards who seemed to be cobbling something together with chains and chairs. One of them ran to the door that led to the cell block and shouted something.  
  
The door opened, and Sam Cresswell came out, looking angry. "What?" he asked.  
  
"The hexes aren't working," one of the wizards said. "I've set these up a hundred times in the Department of Mysteries, but it's not working here."  
  
Cresswell hissed. "Fine," he said. "We'll have to do it the old fashioned way. Get the keys." He went back through the door, and Teddy saw him head down the stairs. Another group of witches was waiting for him.  
  
There was nothing more he could see here.  
  
He circled down from the other side, seeing whatever he could through the cell windows on that side. There were a few more guards, and some cells seemed now to be occupied by real Azkaban guards in uniform. He recognized one of these as Millicent Bulstrode, a woman who'd been badly mauled--and turned--during Greyback's escape. She was beating furiously on the bars and yelling at someone in the corridor.  
  
He got back to the boat, landed and transformed.  
  
" _Finite incantatem_ ," Ruthless said, breaking the Disillusionment. "What did you see?"  
  
Teddy told them.  
  
"It's more than us, but not that many," Honoria said.  "It's be about two to one -- well, maybe a _little_ more -- but we have the element of surprise."  
  
"And we can let the guards out," Joe said. "They might not be armed, but they can help overpower people."  
  
Laura went to the stern of the boat and looked up. "That's the signal," she said, pointing at a pallid flash of wandlight. "Donzo's in."  
  
As if in answer, Teddy heard water start to sluice off of the iron gating as it rose up. It made more noise than he was comfortable with, but no one came running. They had other priorities on the inside, and they weren't expecting any knowledgeable company.  
  
Teddy chanced a spell, and guided the boat into the cove.  
  
There was a thud on the deck, then a slight blur of motion directly in front of him.  
  
Teddy undid the Disllusionment on Donzo.  
  
"Be quiet," Donzo whispered. "Everyone. They're in the dungeons, maybe twenty of them. They have Teddy's Granny in there, and the Malfoys, and a couple of prisoners. They're all tied up. I think they're having a trial. It took a minute to get into the room with the winch. I had to Muffle it. I don't think they're paying attention to spells on the inside now. They didn't notice the Disillusioning, either. They think they have control."  
  
"How do we get in from here?" Tinny asked. "Do we have to climb up to the top?"  
  
Ruthless shook her head. "They use this cave for supply deliveries," she said. "There's a door further in. Greyback's people had to climb, but I can unlock it."  
  
Brendan guided the boat into the narrowing cave. The dwindling light had nearly disappeared when they ran across a small stone dock. Joe Palmer re-Conjured the gangplank, and, without speaking, they disembarked.  
  
As the stood by the door, Teddy cast a Muffling Charm. "Listen," he said, "we'll need to get everywhere at once, or they'll be calling one another for help. It looks like the main concentrations are in the dungeons and at the guard tower, but then, those were the only places we looked. I'm guessing there are more guards patrolling the corridors."  
  
Franklin stepped forward. "Will they have kept brooms here?"  
  
"Probably, up at the top," Ruthless said. "In case anyone needs to go for help. And of course, people ride them to work."  
  
"Good. Palmer, we should get airborne. We can blast out the windows where they're holding the real guards--"  
  
"No good," Geoffrey said. "Are you daft? It's a prison, they'll have thought of that."  
  
Donzo wrinkled his nose. "Much as I hate to admit it, Geoff's right. We need the keys."  
  
Connie Deverill raised her hand, then smiled sheepishly. "Er, guess this isn't class, and I ought to just talk, eh?"  
  
"If you have something to say that's not one of your stupid jokes," Geoff said.  
  
"They probably keep the keys in the tower. We can distract them." She looked at Franklin. "Remember when I tried playing Quidditch? Pretty pathetic. But we did that exercise--trying to hit things with the Quaffles. Joe, can you...?"  
  
"What am I meant to hit?"  
  
"Anything," Lizzie said. "We'll get Disillusioned again, and cause some chaos. Laura... you're light on your feet. Can you get around everyone in the middle of it?"  
  
Laura, looking a little green, nodded.  
  
"Right, then," Teddy said. "Joe, Franklin, and Laura--you're getting the keys and getting the real guards out. Connie, how many do you think you'll need to get their guards neutralized up there?"  
  
"Me?" Connie blinked, surprised. "Er... four. If we get them by surprise, that should do it."  
  
Roger, Lizzie, and Geoff volunteered.  
  
Franklin took a deep breath. "So once we've got the keys, we'll take the north cell block, where you saw the guards. What about the south cell block? You didn't see any regular guards there."  
  
Teddy shook his head. "No. I don't think there were many of Cresswell's people, either, but we'll want to control them."  
  
Tinny stepped up. "I'm always keen for a tube crawl," she said with a shaky smile. "I reckon you'll want most of the rest at the dungeons, but maybe Brendan and Janey could come with me?" She looked hopefully at the Slytherins.  
  
Jane Hunter shrugged. "Why not? It ought to really annoy the Death Eaters in there if I help rescue them."  
  
"Good," Teddy said. "Then everyone else is with me. We'll go in. Five minutes to get where we're going--then everyone start at once. Even if you get to your place early, don't start until five minutes have passed. Are we clear?"  
  
Everyone nodded.  
  
Teddy broke the Muffling Charm.  
  
Ruthless unlocked the door.

Inside, the prison was lit by torches on the wall. Cobwebbed staircases led up from several points along a corridor that stretched the length of the island.  
  
About a hundred yards in, Ruthless held up her hand beside the entrance to one of the staircases. She tapped Tinny's shoulder, and gestured to Brendan and Jane. They gathered there. Ruthless pointed her wand at the walls, then whispered, "I don't trust this spell for long. Go up eight floors. That'll get you to the south cell block. Wait until, er..."  
  
Teddy went to them, and tapped Tinny's earrings and Brendan and Jane's wristwatches. "Five minutes," he said. "Everyone will know at the same time."  
  
Tinny nodded. She pushed herself against the staircase wall and started up. Brendan and Jane followed a few steps behind.  
  
When they were gone, Teddy found bits of metal on everyone's clothes to Charm. It wasn't as elegant as Hermione's fake Galleons, but it would do. Ruthless signaled for his group to wait at the entrance to a dank corridor, then sent Connie's group up a staircase a bit further down, and took Joe and Franklin to the furthest staircase. A moment later, she came back. Only she, Teddy, Donzo, Corky, Maurice, and Honoria were left.  
  
"The dungeons are up one floor," she said. "There are stairs at the end of the corridor. We'll get there before the other groups. We'll have to sit tight, no matter what we see. Or who we want to disembowel with our bare hands."  
  
"Disillusion?" Donzo asked.  
  
Maurice shook his head. "Let's just stay low. I want to be able to see myself once we start fighting."  
  
Ruthless nodded. "It's almost impossible to fight Disillusioned. Burke's right."  
  
Corky glanced at Honoria, then said, "We need to be ready for something if they catch us."  
  
"If they catch us, the game's over," Maurice said. He drew out the knife he'd brought from the shop, and held it in the opposite hand from his wand. "Personally, what I'm ready for is to give whatever I get from them."  
  
Teddy carefully took the knife away from Maurice, turned it, and held it out to him, hilt first. "Not unless you have to, or I'm not letting go of this."  
  
"Fine. We'll play chess instead. Winner take all."  
  
"I didn't say not to do it at all. But you don't want to do it if you don't have to. Trust me on that."  
  
Maurice looked at him for a long time, then nodded somberly and took the knife. He sheathed it.  
  
Together, they made their way silently up the corridor, to the shallow stairs. Teddy could see a crowd gathered inside an open space. They were waving their fists in the air. He stopped at the arch that formed the door to the space, and pressed himself against it. Ruthless took the opposite side. Maurice and Donzo slipped into spaces beside Teddy, and Corky and Honoria joined Ruthless.  
  
Inside the room, there a sudden surge of applause. Teddy didn't think there could be more than twenty-five people inside--more than Donzo had estimated, but still not a mob--but the sound bounced off the stone walls, making it deafening.  
  
A voice rose above it. "Now, then," it said, and waited through another wave. "Now, this isn't a show. This is a solemn occasion. Today, we're here to bring justice."   
  
Teddy chanced a glance around the door frame. The crowd was sitting now, and Sam Cresswell was standing on a platform. Around him were four chairs. Teddy could see Granny's graying hair from the back, and Lucius's flyaway white hair. He guessed the other two chairs held Draco and Narcissa.  
  
"You're here to commit murder." Granny's voice rose above the others, calm and strong. "You're quite mad."  
  
" _I'm_ mad?" Sam moved over to her. " _I_ am? You... you who lost your husband and now have associated yourself with the very forces that murdered him. Or perhaps you always were associated with them. Maybe you regretted the choices of your youth, and turned them in yourself!" He raised his arm.  
  
Teddy tensed to run in, but Donzo grabbed him and held him back. Maurice tapped the Charmed watch.  
  
Inside, Sam Cresswell's fist slammed down.  
  
Granny didn't cry out. Instead, she said, in a coldly angry voice, "How dare you? Your father was a good man. He would ashamed."  
  
"I wouldn't know," Cresswell said. "He was murdered by Death Eaters when I was eight years old."  
  
 _That's about two hundred times as long as I had with my parents_ , Teddy thought bitterly. _It's--_  
  
His thought was interrupted by one of Cresswell's followers rushing forward. "Mr. Cresswell," he said, breathing hard. "We just did a trace magic sweep, on the half-hour, like you said. There were spells cast at the supply loading dock."  
  
Cresswell straightened. "What? Who was there?"  
  
Teddy braced himself. There were at least two minutes left. He ran through scenarios in his mind, ways to keep any word from going out from here, ways to--  
  
A flash of movement caught his eye, and before he could do anything, Corky and Honoria had left the shadows of the arch. Corky was holding a Conjured camera.  
  
Honoria giggled. "I'm sorry," she said. "I, er... well, I sort of guessed something might be happening." She curtsied. "Honoria Higgs, _Hogwarts Charmer_. And _Daily Prophet_ apprentice." She giggled again. "And this is my photographer. I heard the Ministry was sealed, and I... I interviewed one of your followers a few weeks back, and I remembered that he said that things might happen at Azkaban, so I took a guess that tonight would be a story for the ages. I wanted to come and make it immortal. So we, er... sneaked in."  
  
Sam frowned. "I know your name."  
  
"Of course you do," Honoria said. "I helped take down the last Death Eater who was out of Azkaban. Greyback? Other people were telling lies, but I got the truth out. I want to get the truth out about you. I like taking down evil people. I wouldn't want to miss the Malfoys getting their comeuppance. Atkinson, get pictures. From above. It'll look very impressive."  
  
Corky Levitated the camera to a spot over Sam's head. "Is this about right?"  
  
"Get that out of here," Sam said. "This isn't for show."  
  
"Course not," Corky said. "It's history, like she said. This one'll be in all the books."  
  
Sam narrowed his eyes at Honoria. "You wrote that bit on Greyback at the behest of Harry Potter's godson."  
  
At this, Honoria looked genuinely horrified. "I don't write at anyone's _behest_. Least of all someone who calls me evil ten times a day." She tossed her hair importantly. "Look, do you want the world to know your story or not?"  
  
"I don't trust you," Sam said. "You're a Slytherin and a pure-blood."  
  
"I," Honoria said, "am a reporter." She jerked her chin at the camera just as Teddy felt a shock come through his wristwatch. "Go on, Corky. Take the shot."  
  
Corky pointed his wand at the camera. Something crashed upstairs.  
  
The camera exploded in a burst of fire and white light.  
  
People screamed, and Teddy ran into the room. He could feel Maurice and Donzo beside him. Ruthless charged in, blasting at everything.  
  
A curse flew at him, and he jumped into the air, transforming as he went. His hawk's wings caught the air, and he spiraled upward, away from the fray. He could see the room from above now. Corky and Honoria, back to back, were fighting with six witches who still seemed to be in shock at the turn of events, and Donzo was binding people as fast as he could. Ruthless was battling one of the wizards who had put together the chairs. Maurice had dived through the crowd, and was hacking at Granny's bonds with his knife. Sam ran toward him.  
  
Teddy went into a dive, and transformed as he came out, somersaulting down onto Sam Cresswell from above, knocking the wind out of him.  
  
"Teddy!" Granny yelled. "What are you lot doing here?"  
  
"What do you _think?_ "  
  
"I'll yell at you later. Get Narcissa and Draco. And Lucius."  
  
"The chains don't break with magic," Maurice said.  
  
Teddy ground his teeth, then an image came into his head, of the Shrieking Shack. They'd tried to repair the doors there. There was something... "The hinges!" he said. "Pop the hinges."  
  
Maurice looked blank for a minute, then seemed to understand. He worked his knife up against the hinge-pin at Granny's wrist, then turned it hard. Teddy heard it pop open before he turned his attention to Draco's chains.  
  
"When I get you out," he said, "get a wand. Can you get someone's wand without magic?"  
  
"Trust me," Draco said. "I'm motivated. And I have some practice."  
  
The hinge popped. Teddy Conjured another knife and gave it to Draco to get the other bindings.  
  
He'd taken a few steps toward Narcissa when he felt a hand close around his ankle.


	28. Revolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy and the smallest year join forces to get Azkaban away from Sam's followers--and are confronted with more than just Sam as the battle rages.

Teddy, who'd only half stood up when he left Draco's side, fell sprawling onto the stone floor. He twisted to see over his shoulder, where Sam Cresswell was gaining more traction, pulling him along. His teeth were bared, and any semblance of charisma was gone. It didn't matter. None of his followers were watching--they were engaged in a battle they hadn't expected. Those who weren't fighting were trying to revive or break spells on those who'd been bound or Stunned in the first seconds. Everyone else was evenly matched.  
  
Teddy pistoned his leg, trying to shake Sam and cursing himself for not being careful. Dudley Dursley had once told him never to let the other person in a fight get hold of him, but he'd lost sight of it over the years since Greyback. After all, he was now bigger than most of the people he might find himself fighting, but...  
  
Using Teddy's leg for leverage, Sam pulled himself up to a kneeling position and fumbled on the floor for a lost wand. Teddy spun as hard as he could.  
  
Sam's grip slipped.  
  
Teddy leveled his wand, but another spell came out of nowhere, knocking Sam away. Donzo appeared from the fray. He had a large cut on his lip that looked like he'd been fist fighting with someone rather than in a magical duel. "That's for breaking my hand," he told Sam. He looked at Teddy. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Yeah, I--"  
  
Lightning quick, his breath back, Sam jumped to his feet, and knocked Honoria--who'd moved to help Lucius--over with an elbow jab to her lower back. He grabbed her wand as it clattered from her hand. With a bellow, Corky broke off his fight and ran toward her, but some of the ones who'd been dazed early were starting to come around, and they rushed in between him and Sam.  
  
An Azkaban guard (who would certainly be unemployed by sunrise) hit Teddy with a Stinging Hex. He felt his face swell up, and morphed to keep his eyes open and clear. There was no time to go after Sam; he could only hope someone else had got to him. The guard--he thought she was the same scarred woman he'd seen in London--engaged him a furious duel. She was better than he would have thought, looking at her; she'd obviously had some training.  
  
From behind him on the right came a stream of gold light. It wound itself around the guard's wrists, making her drop her wand. Ruthless ran around and grabbed the wand. She tossed it hard at Granny and said, "Andromeda! Take it!"  
  
Granny, free of her chains, caught the wand as she stood and strode into the fight, eyes fierce.  
  
"I'll just get out," the guard said. "You have no _right_ , none of you had a right..."  
  
"He'd have gone after your own mother, you stupid woman!" Ruthless said, binding her further. "He wanted all of them dead."  
  
"No, they know she was framed, she was thrown in here for doing what she _had_ to do, not what she wanted, and it's only because Herm--"  
  
Her mouth continued moving, but Teddy could no longer hear her. Ruthless ground her teeth and turned to him long enough to roll her eyes, and then there were two more of Sam's people on her, and Teddy was knocked over from the left. He barely had time to register whether he was fighting a witch or a wizard before the curses started to fly.  
  
Thinking wasn't a luxury Teddy could afford. When he'd first seen twenty-five people (or maybe thirty), he'd thought the six of them could handle it, especially with Granny and Aunt Narcissa and Draco fighting--he hoped no one would be mad enough to arm Lucius--but the element of surprise had worn off too quickly, and now the numbers were turning against them.  
  
Honoria had got up and somehow either got her wand back or found another one, but she was trapped against a wall with three wizards forcing her into only defensive spells. Corky was using his wand and his fist about equally--and equally well--but he'd drawn fire from a good sized knot because of it. Donzo had made a light cage to hold back several of Sam's people, but they were making progress against it, and he had to put a lot of attention into keeping it stable. Ruthless, with the power to make binding arrests, was doing better, but of course, Sam knew perfectly well how to counter the spell she was using.  
  
Teddy backed up and ran into someone. He turned, prepared to fight, but found his cousin Draco instead.  
  
Draco's nostrils were flared, and anger burned in his eyes. "Do your people realize they're not in Charms class?" he asked. "Stunning them isn't working."  
  
"I don't want them killing people if they don't have to."  
  
"You don't have to kill them, just get bloody serious." He thrust his wand forward savagely, and the woman in front of him fell, clawing at her swollen throat. "She can breathe enough to stay alive," he told Teddy. "But she's out of the fight."  
  
The fight swept them apart again. Teddy caught a glimpse of Narcissa Malfoy, who was standing by the chair where Lucius was still bound. He was wriggling, and to Teddy's horror, someone had given him a knife to get out of his manacles. Granny was dueling a dour-faced middle-aged wizard.  
  
Teddy, momentarily without a duel, transformed and flew to a windowsill to try and find Sam. He was nowhere to be seen.  
  
And neither was Maurice.  
  
He flew down to where Donzo had finally lost hold of the cage and was now fending off its former inhabitants. "Where's Maurice?"  
  
Donzo didn't look at him. "Don't know, didn't really have a chance to check in with him." He paused, cast a large Stunning Spell that threw two witches backward, and said, "Why?"  
  
"Can't see him. Or Cresswell."  
  
Donzo cursed under his breath. "Help me bind them up," he said, nodding at the three witches he'd captured earlier. "Between us we can do better than a light cage."  
  
Teddy Conjured iron chains, and Donzo softened the rock in the wall. The witches had no chance to get away; they were in a narrow spot. The chains whipped forward and knocked them to the floor then buried themselves in the wall. Donzo re-solidified it. Teddy disarmed them. It would have been a waste of time to try to get the wands to someone. Instead, he Incinerated them.  
  
Teddy sent his Patronus at Maurice, asking where he was--hoping against hope that if he was doing something stupid, the Patronus would stop him. Seconds later, Maurice's lemur dropped down in front of him and said, "A bit busy to chat. I'm up at the top with Cresswell's reinforcements."  
  
Donzo and Teddy looked at each other and ran, Teddy sending his Patronus to Ruthless quickly to tell her where they were, not that she could very well break off the several fights she was involved in.  
  
Teddy stopped running and transformed to fly through the dismal corridors of the prison, rising up toward the glimmer of late night sun. In the twilight at the top of the island, he could see Connie Deverill dueling a guard atop the watchtower. Roger and Geoff were trying to take down a particularly good fighter. Laura, Joe, and Franklin were nowhere to be seen; they must have got down to the cell block.  
  
Maurice was furiously dueling Sam Cresswell, his wand in one hand and his knife in the other. Cresswell was holding him off with only a little difficulty. His attention seemed to be focused elsewhere, over the edge.  
  
Teddy flew over. Ten witches and wizards were climbing the rockface. Sam had Conjured ropes for them.  
  
Teddy landed on the wall and transformed back into his human form, aimed his wand at the ropes, and lengthened them rapidly. They slackened in the cold North Sea wind, and the climbers plummeted toward the ocean. He stopped them before they hit and whipped the ropes out of Sam's control.  
  
Sam bellowed and ran at him, but Donzo had got up here now, and he and Maurice pushed Sam away.  
  
Teddy ran to Roger and joined the fight. "Roger," he said, "I'll take over here. There are ten of Sam's friends about to climb back up. Do you think your selkie friends can keep them occupied?"  
  
Roger nodded and left immediately.  
  
Geoff ducked a spell and nearly ran into Teddy. His face was set and grim, and more unpleasant than usual. He'd shed his jacket at some point, and Teddy now saw that he was wearing his "Revolution" tee shirt.  
  
The guard Connie was dueling fell stunned to the ground, and she jumped down a moment later, laughing more than a little wildly.  
  
"Got him!" she said. "I got him."  
  
"We need to get back to the dungeons," Teddy said. "It's insane there."  
  
"Then we'll stop fooling around," Geoff said, and before Teddy could stop him, he raised his right arm high, pointed his wand at the man they were dueling, and brought it down in a cruel diagonal cut that Teddy saw in his worst nightmares.

There was nothing Teddy could do about Geoff; the spell was already cast, and he was at the wrong angle for a Shield Charm, even if he'd wanted to send that particular curse back. Instead, he yelled " _Depulso_!", and the man who might have been hit went flying across the roof instead, coming to a crumpled--but breathing--heap at the base of the wall. Geoff's spell hit the stones with the force of a lightning strike, sending out chips of rock.  
  
Teddy grabbed Geoff by the front of his "Revolution" tee shirt and shoved him against the wall of the guard's tower. "Are you mad?"  
  
"I'm trying to help _you_ get your murderer," Geoff said.  
  
"By becoming one?"  
  
"Worked for you, didn't it? Or is burning really legal these days?"  
  
A red rage rose in Teddy's mind, blocking out any rational explanations he might have given. The truculent, stubborn smirk on Geoff's face told him that they'd have done no good anyway. He drew back his fist, and he wasn't sure what might have happened if Maurice Burke hadn't screamed.  
  
The sound cut through the bloody haze in his head, and he shoved Geoff aside. "Disable," he hissed. "But keep it reversible. Most of these idiots aren't murderers. Yet."  
  
With that, he turned his back on Geoff and ran back to the low parapet where Maurice and Donzo had been dueling Sam a moment before. Donzo was on the floor, bleeding from a deep gash in his shoulder, and Maurice's arm was hanging limply at his side.  
  
Sam Cresswell had vanished.  
  
"Downstairs," Maurice gasped. "He went back. Downstairs. To the cell blocks where Tinny went."  
  
"Are you...?"  
  
"I can Heal both of us, but _go_."  
  
Teddy looked around. Connie had already gone for the dungeons, as he'd told her to. Roger was climbing up over the edge. He looked soaked and cold and not terribly useful.  
  
Grimacing, he called, "Roger! You stay up here and keep an eye on the guards. Phillips!"  
  
Geoff turned, his eyes blazing. "What?"  
  
"You're with me."  
  
"I heard what you said. I don't need to be supervised."  
  
"No, but I may need help, which is what you said you were trying to do."  
  
Geoff hesitated, then said, "Fine."  
  
Teddy ran for the south cell block. He could hear Geoff running behind him. Together, they descended into the bleak corridors where the worst of the surviving Death Eaters were kept. Brendan and Jane were dueling two of Sam's guards; a third and fourth seemed to be bound in a back corner. All of this, Teddy saw in an instant. At the center of the corridor, the last guard had grabbed Tinny by the arms. Her wand had got away from her somewhere. Sam Cresswell was advancing on her.  
  
"Well, look at this," he said. "I know you. Saw you in that school rag. Your parents were colluders, weren't they? You lived, while better parents lost their children. And better children lost their parents."  
  
"Let me go!" Tinny yelled, struggling.  
  
Teddy raised his wand, but Sam must have heard him; a strong repelling charm spread across the corridor, forming an effective barricade.  
  
"Janey!" Teddy called. "Janey, the barrier, get it down! Get Cresswell's wand!"  
  
"Can't get away just now!" Jane yelled back, and Teddy could see that her guard was overpowering her.  
  
Teddy tried to break through, but the spell Sam was using was an Auror's spell, meant to keep civilians from crime scenes, and it was impossible to break from the far side.  
  
"I could help!" a cheerful voice said from his left. Dolores Umbridge was leaning eagerly against the bars of her cage. "He's very naughty and needs to be punished."  
  
"Shut up, you old hag," Geoff said.  
  
Umbridge giggled.  
  
"You can't help any more than I can," Teddy said.  
  
Sam raised his wand.  
  
From beyond the barrier, someone else said, " _I_ can help."  
  
A cell door flew open, and Rodolphus Lestrange burst out, laughing, holding Tinny's wand. "I can _help_!" he bellowed, and blasted away the barrier. Teddy and Geoff rushed in, but Lestrange had already turned his wand not to the aid of the other fighters--of course--but to the other cells. Doors flew open. Rabastan Lestrange. Thorfinn Rowle.  
  
Teddy slammed the cell doors shut as quickly as he could. Rowle screamed as his fingers were broken. Teddy melted the locks. They could be fixed later.  
  
In the confusion, Sam had turned away from Tinny, and her guard must have let his attention stray as well--she suddenly bent forward and threw him, grabbing the knife from her leg. She stabbed wildly at his wrist, and the wand he was using went flying. She grabbed it and bound him, carelessly Healing the gushing artery on his arm. She pointed his wand at Lestrange and yelled, " _Expel--_ "  
  
But Lestrange was quicker. He Banished her across the corridor. With a flick of the wand and a flash of green light, he took down the guard Brendan was fighting.  
  
Teddy rushed in, but felt hot ropes lash around him, pulling him back.  
  
"Look what you're trying to save," Sam whispered. "Look at them. Killers. All of them. Worse than me."  
  
"Runcorn?" Teddy asked. "He was a bureaucrat. All he did was push papers."  
  
"He was a murderer. He killed your grandfather and my father by pushing his papers around."  
  
"And Fudge? And Goyle? What about Maurice's parents?"  
  
"The _Burkes_?" Sam spat on the floor. "Everything they had came out of the blood of innocents."  
  
"They _were_ innocents."  
  
"Then why were they taking that shop?" Sam didn't seem interested in an answer. He dragged Teddy further back. The ropes were tightening, making it difficult to breathe. Teddy tried to free his arm enough to use his wand and get out, but he was well immobilized.  
  
A gate crashed down behind them, and Rodolphus Lestrange fought his way out of the fray. He was dragging Geoff. "Look at that," Lestrange said. "I have one of yours, you have one of mine."  
  
"I'm not one of yours," Teddy gasped. "Your wife killed my mother." He expected Geoff to protest the characterization of himself as "one of" Sam's, but Geoff was too busy reaching surreptitiously for his knife. This time, it seemed to Teddy, it was called for--he said nothing.  
  
With a lurch, Geoff threw Lestrange off of him, swinging his knife in a vicious arc as he did so. Lestrange ducked it and raised his wand.  
  
The corridor was filled with red light, and Geoff flew backward into the wall, clutching at his face and screaming.  
  
In the sudden light, Sam moved to shield his eyes, and it lessened the pressure on the bindings just enough for Teddy to shift his wand, point it at the ropes, and slice them up one side. He rolled away, knocking Sam off his feet as he went.  
  
Geoffrey had turned toward the bars of one of the cells (Rabastan Lestrange's, and inside, he was laughing merrily) and pulled himself up. He turned slowly, and Teddy could see that his face was a boiling red cauldron, with only his flat dark eyes recognizable. He had his knife.  
  
Rodolphus Lestrange, perhaps thinking his first victim was down, had turned on the guard Jane had been fighting with. Once the guard was down, he turned on Jane.  
  
Before Teddy could entirely process what he was seeing, Geoff launched himself across the room and stabbed Lestrange between his shoulder blades.  
  
Lestrange fell.  
  
Tinny ran over and grabbed her wand from the body. She looked at Teddy and said, "We're clear. Let's get out of here."  
  
"Cresswell is..." Teddy turned. The gate had gone back up, and Sam was gone. Teddy ground his teeth. "Shove them in a cell," he said, pointing to the unconscious guards. "Melt the locks."  
  
Brendan dragged both guards to an empty cell, while Tinny examined Lestrange. "He's still breathing," she said. "Should I Heal him?"  
  
"Are you crazy?" Geoff asked.  
  
From below, from the dungeons, something crashed. "Do what you can," Teddy said. "Janey, stay with her in case something happens."  
  
He ran past them, down the corridor, to the stairs that led further into the island. From below, he could hear people shouting. When he reached the dungeons, the whole room seemed to be seething with fighters. Granny was standing on the chair she'd been bound in, tossing Curses while Narcissa guarded her. Honoria and Draco had taken down what looked like a large group, and Corky was wrestling with a huge redheaded man.  
  
"Ruthless!" Teddy yelled.  
  
There was no answer.  
  
From across the room, he heard Sam Cresswell laugh. There was a crack, and the chair Granny was standing on collapsed, sending her down into the fury. Teddy ran in, trying to keep his eye on everything at once as he fought blindly.  
  
Draco, distracted by the danger to his mother (and possibly to Granny), ran over, which left Honoria undefended. Sam knocked her down, and broke the spells on the guards she'd captured.  
  
They rose up.  
  
Teddy's group was badly outnumbered now, and the element of surprise was gone. Sam's people were around him.  
  
And from somewhere beyond, Teddy could hear the thunder of approaching feet.

Teddy and Draco reached Granny at the same time, but Narcissa was already helping her up, shooting Curses in every direction as she did so. There was nothing of the sickly woman Teddy had seen earlier in the year left; this was the woman who'd saved Uncle Harry by lying to Voldemort's face in the midst of battle. Once Granny got on her feet, she grabbed her wand again, turned back to back with her sister, and began to fight.  
  
"Granny, are you all right?"  
  
"I've been better," she said. "Teddy, we need to--"  
  
At that moment, a deafening whoop echoed across the room, rising above the fray of the battle. Two broomsticks swooped in above the crowd--Joe Palmer and Franklin Driscoll. Joe was carrying a vial of some kind of powder, which he dropped onto a concentration of Sam's fighters, then tossed expertly to Franklin, who took it to another corner. Joe dived and plowed down three guards, then Teddy heard a shout, a voice he'd have known anywhere.  
  
"Bulstrode! Get them Bound! Driscoll, Riot Powder, north corner!"  
  
Ruthless had also appropriated a broom somewhere, and she took off from the head of a large group of real Azkaban guards who were running alongside Laura Chapman. Within the group, Teddy could see Donzo, Maurice, and Roger as well.  
  
Ruthless flew in relentlessly at Sam, who raised his wand at her. She jumped off the broom as he Incinerated it, landing on top of him.  
  
Teddy shoved aside a woman who was trying to hold him back and ran in, but as he burst out from the fray, he saw that Sam had flipped Ruthless over. He had his wand pointed at her head. She was reaching for her knife, but he wouldn't let her get to it. His head was bleeding.  
  
Teddy raised his wand. "Let her go!"  
  
"Curse him!" Ruthless shouted. "Don't worry about me."  
  
Teddy saw something small moving behind them. He shook his head. "No, Ruthless. I can't risk hurting you." He blinked rapidly, hoping Sam would think he was crying and Ruthless would know he was buying time.   
  
Whatever Ruthless knew or didn't know, Sam believed. He laughed merrily. "Oh, he still thinks you're the love of his life. Pure, sweet little schoolgirl. I can tell you what she does when she's out of class. She--"  
  
He broke off suddenly, his limbs going out like pistons. Ruthless fell away from him and grabbed her wand, and Maurice came up from behind him. Ruthless jabbed her wand at him, and ropes came out, binding him tightly. Maurice took his wand.  
  
And pulled out his knife.  
  
"Maurice, don't!" Ruthless said, grabbing his arm. "I understand why you would, but don't do it unless you mean to take his place in here."  
  
Maurice glared at her mutinously, then put his knife back in his boot.  
  
Teddy looked up.  
  
The Riot Powder had managed to put out a few of his own people, but it had mostly landed on Sam's. They were sitting docilely as the loyal Azkaban guards bound them up. Granny was tending wounds, and the Malfoys--Draco and Narcissa, anyway--were trying to help.   
  
At the entrance to the cell blocks, he saw Jane and Tinny helping Geoff down--Geoff's face was still swollen and now bleeding. The girls took him to Granny.  
  
"Stand up, Sam," Ruthless said, prodding and eventually Levitating Sam into a standing position. "You're under arrest for kidnapping and inciting a riot. Good thing you invented that Riot Powder after Greyback escaped, don't you think?"  
  
"You think this is the end, Scrimgeour?" Sam grinned wildly. "Look at them all. Look at everyone who was following me."  
  
"I did. Pack of lunatics."  
  
"Easier to think that, is it?" His smile widened, almost skull-like now. "But you know better. You know they'll see me as a hero. That's why you stopped Burke. You didn't want me to be a martyr. But it's too late for that."  
  
"What...?"  
  
The ropes around Sam started smoking, and his face went red from heat. Teddy could smell something wickedly sulfuric. "It's a potion!" he realized, and leapt on Sam, beating at the now burning ropes. "It must have been activated when he was bound."  
  
"Help me!" Sam yelled. "Oh, God, help, she hit me with something!  It's burning me up from inside!"  
  
The room, which had got quite a bit quieter already, seemed suddenly silent, and Teddy could feel eyes turning toward them. The flames grew stronger despite his attempts to smother them. He could feel his robes catching, and a quick Flame Freezing charm did nothing to stop them.  
  
"You're lying!" he said.  
  
"She's killed me! He's holding me down!"  
  
"Teddy, get out of the fire!" Granny screamed. "Now!"  
  
Teddy held on.  
  
A powerful spell flew out from the crowd, catching Teddy and flinging him off of Sam. Draco Malfoy stepped forward.  
  
"Get the fire out!" Teddy told him.  
  
Draco holstered his wand.  
  
Alone now, Sam Cresswell raised his eyes to the ceiling. Flames rushed up from under the ropes. He screamed one more time... and was gone. The flames rushed upward in a spiral, scattering ashes over their heads. To Teddy's disgust, several of his followers looked up worshipfully and tried to catch them.  
  
The stone chamber seemed to pause for breath, the crashing of the waves outside the only mark of passing time. The sun had finally gone down somewhere beyond the walls, and the shadow of night crept in.  
  
In the caesura, Millicent Bulstrode said, "Good riddance to bad rubbish. Let's get the rest of them put away."  
  
Slowly, the world began to move again.  
  
Methodically, Ruthless, Teddy's classmates and family, and the loyal Azkaban guards moved Sam's people to holding cells. Some of them looked confused, like they weren't entirely sure where they were, or why they'd brought themselves here. Teddy supposed there would be a lot of pleas of the Imperius Curse, and some of them might even be true.  
  
Teddy helped Ruthless with the last cell. She sighed. "I'm glad you figured out what Maurice and I were doing," she said. "I thought you about to run in and do something stupid."  
  
"Er..."  
  
"You had absolutely no idea that was a plan?" She smiled wearily. "I'm not about to let myself get caught that easily, am I?"  
  
"Well, I, er..."  
  
"Sam wasn't paying any attention to Maurice. I wasn't sure if I could--well, if he could stop. Maurice, I mean. But he did."  
  
They looked at each other for a long time, then Teddy said, "I'd best get back to the dungeons. See if anyone else is injured."  
  
They walked back together, not talking, then split up to tend to the wounded. There weren't as many as Teddy had feared, and most were minor. Maurice had been as good as his word at Healing himself and Donzo. Lucius Malfoy had taken a few cuts and punches (Teddy noted that, despite this, his wife and son had opted to defend him rather than give him the means to defend himself), and everyone had a good batch of bruises and scrapes. The only serious injury among Teddy's group was the curse that had struck Geoff. Granny was doing her best to tend it, but it was almost certain to scar.  
  
"I need to get him to St. Mungo's," she said. "There are potions that can help minimize it, but only if I get there quickly."  
  
"The Floo only goes to the Ministry," Ruthless said. "And it's still Sealed."  
  
"I could take him to another island on a broomstick," Granny said. "May I?" She held out her hand.  
  
Ruthless caught Joe Palmer's eye, and signaled him to send over his broomstick. Granny secured the mutinous-looking Geoff to it. He was saying nothing, and Teddy wondered if Granny had Silenced him. She Levitated him to the stairs, and they disappeared.  
  
The rest of Teddy's classmates, freed now from their duties helping the guards, drifted in.  
  
"Is it over?" Tinny asked.  
  
"Until they start accusing me of burning him to death," Ruthless said.  
  
"That potion will have left traces in the ash," Teddy told her. He didn't point out--and didn't need to--that minor matters like the facts wouldn't stop the more devoted lunatics from believing it.  
  
"So either he did us a favor, or you get a medal," Brendan said.   
  
Honoria sniffed. "I should've brought a real camera instead of Conjuring one. The story of the year, I'm here, and I've no visuals."  
  
"Right," Maurice said. "That's the real tragedy of it all."  
  
They blinked at one another owlishly for a moment, wounded eyes in dirty faces, then Connie laughed. A moment later, Laura joined her, and, slowly, it spread through the group.  
  
They decided to stay until communication with the Ministry came back--it didn't seem right to leave the guards with a fractious population and no back-up. The Malfoys kept themselves apart from everyone, Conjuring a pair of beds and going to sleep. Teddy's classmates stayed up in shifts, and he slept as the night turned over into early morning, Ruthless leaning companionably on his shoulder.  
  
It was impossible to know what time it was when someone shook him by the shoulder. He felt Ruthless stir beside him, then sit up straight as he blinked himself awake.  
  
Uncle Harry was standing in front of him, a bemused look on his face. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Yeah." Teddy raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you meant to be on holiday?"


	29. By a Thread (4): The Slytherins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honoria finishes her profiles of her year with Brendan Lynch, Jane Hunter, and herself.

Volume 7, Issue 35

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_10 June 2016_  
  
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 **By A Thread**  
  
 **Brendan Lynch: A Work To Do**  
Part 14 of 16

The Lynch home in County Clare, near Doolin, is a large and gracious ancestral home that commands a grand view of the sea cliffs. It is filled with honors both ancient and contemporary, from military decorations to Quidditch trophies.   
  
The family is quite venerable in wizarding and Muggle circles. Aiden Lynch, the father of Brendan Lynch, directs a charitable organization that lets underprivileged wizarding children play Quidditch in the national stadium, and, in its Muggle face, provides a league and uniforms for both Muggle and wizarding children (under careful supervision) to play the Muggle game of football. His wife Dierdre makes quilts for a charitable organization of her own. The children, eighteen-year-old Brendan and twelve-year-old Darcy (a second year Hufflepuff), are often seen on holiday going about doing volunteer work of their own. It is simply expected of them.  
  
Ask anyone in County Clare who the Lynches are, and that's the story you'll hear.  
  
Ask anyone outside County Clare, and there is precisely one thing known: Irish national Seeker Aiden Lynch has lost the Snitch to Bulgaria's Viktor Krum in two Quidditch World Cups and one playoff.  
  
"I won't lie," Brendan says. "It's a bit annoying when they take the mickey out of Da on the Wizarding Wireless, and fourth year, when the Ravenclaws were rooting against the Hufflepuffs and started chanting 'Pull A Lynch' at their Seeker when he got too close... not really fun. That's why I don't really play much Quidditch."  
  
But make no mistake: Brendan doesn't hold it against Viktor Krum.  
  
"I did, once," he admits. "Then Da set me straight. It was Krum that got my mother to Bulgaria during the war. Oliver Wood was looking for contacts, and he knew Krum a bit, and Krum was looking for a way to help. He was here when the Ministry fell, you know, and he hated the Death Eaters as much as anyone. So Wood got my parents to him when the Death Eaters came. Seems they didn't like my parents helping the Muggles with the charity work. Krum got my mother to Sofia--Da stayed to fight--and that's where I was born. Thanks to Krum."  
  
At Hogwarts, Brendan has never been a star student--"I almost dropped out after O.W.L.s," he says, "but it didn't seem right to break the year up"--and has steadfastly refused to throw himself into Quidditch. He has largely avoided the more notorious episodes in the past seven years, and isn't well-known outside his House and year.  
  
He shrugs. "I keep to myself, mostly. And Gobstones Club. They're a good lot, though I reckon I've been the oldest for at least three years." Still, when pressed, he admits that the Gobstones players aren't the most defining group he belongs to. "Our year, though--it's not like anything else, is it? You can't get away from it. I wish I could find out who everyone else would have been."  
  
With his pronounced lack of ambition, why did he end up in Slytherin House, a place where the Sorting Hat tends to put the most driven students? "No idea," he says, then reconsiders. "Maybe it's because I don't want to be just like my Da, and I don't want to be followed around by jokes about Golden Snitches. Perhaps I'm driven that way. Or maybe the Hat was just bored and said, 'I don't know where to put him, so off to the dungeons with him.'"  
  
What's next for Brendan?  
  
He shrugs. "That'd be the mystery, wouldn't it? Doesn't seem to be a great need for Gobstones champions." When pressed, he sighs. "I've got my charities. Darcy and I've been working at a relief society for hex victims--not the sort who get cared for in hospitals, but the sort who're stuck speaking in rhyme or hopping on one foot. Doesn't sound terrible, but have you ever tried to find work that way?" He raises an eyebrow. "Not that I'll do much better, with my marks, of course. But I know some people who know other people, and I've had some success at getting people into work they can do. Maybe I'll find some work I can do."

* * *

Volume 7, Issue 36

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_17 June 2016_  
  
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 **By A Thread**  
  
 **Jane Hunter: A Hand In Each World**  
Part 15 of 16

"If you want to know the truth," Jane Hunter says, "only one person has ever really questioned whether or not I ought to feel at home in Slytherin as a Muggle-born, and he's long out of the House. I got a few odd looks from older students at first--you remember--but did you ever hear anyone call me a Mudblood, or anything else?" She shrugs. "That belongs to a different time in Slytherin. It's over for anyone who wasn't there then. I mean, how smart or ambitious could you be if you're going to hold on irrationally to something that would make you untouchable in decent company?"  
  
Could the old prejudice simply have gone underground, as various detractors insist?  
  
Jane considers it, then gives a shrug. "If so, it's so far under that it's not been any trouble to me or anyone else. I suppose it's possible that everyone I've met is really seething with deep hatred, but quite honestly, if they are, they can seethe all they like, as long as they stay out of my way--it's more trouble to them than to me. But somehow, I don't think there's all that much seething going on. It would take far too much energy to never let slip that it's happening."  
  
This nonchalance is typical of Jane, a serious-faced, bespectacled brunette who is known among her friends for her wry, detached attitude toward matters others might approach more emotionally.  
  
"I wouldn't call it detached, precisely," she protests. "I just try to filter things through my brain at some point before I let them out of my mouth. It keeps things a bit... calmer. When I read about the Houses, I really thought I'd be put in Ravenclaw, but it seems that they route thoughts through their brains as an end in itself. I do it as a means to an end, and I guess that makes the difference."  
  
Before receiving her Hogwarts letter, Jane was a self-proclaimed "anorak" at her Muggle school in Oxford, where her interest in the sciences was not well-received by most classmates, though it earned her high marks from teachers. She entertained herself by conducting experiments, though bouts of accidental magic may, she admits, have compromised her conclusions.  
  
"Since I'm not sure when I was doing magic or not doing magic, I can't be entirely sure of the ones that worked the way I wanted them to, can I? After all--magic is about making things work the way you will them to work." She cuts off a question on this. "I don't mean it's that simple, of course. We've all seen magic that doesn't work the way we intend it to. But I think, at its core, magic is about will, about becoming a force of nature that acts consciously and with will on the rules of the physical universe. A whirlwind can lift a tree more efficiently than a witch can Levitate it, but it can't mean to do that." She smiles. "I think we ought to have a Philosophy of Magic course here, don't you? It would be a lot of fun."

Despite her interest in such questions, Jane has little inclination to study the subject in the Wizarding world, even within the Ministry's structure for such studies in the Department of Mysteries. Such things, she insists, are a hobby, not a vocation. Instead, she has maintained her interest in Muggle science throughout her years at Hogwarts, even sacrificing her summers to take classes in various scientific subjects. After fifth year O.W.L.s, she returned home and sat for the GCSE (General Certificate of Secondary Education), and plans to take A-Levels (a rough equivalent of N.E.W.T.s, though a good deal more focused) in Chemistry and Physics.  
  
"And that's as the number four student in our year!" she says, laughing. "I suppose if I'd concentrated a little less on getting my Muggle education, I could have got marks as good as Teddy or Lizzie or Donzo--maybe; this isn't an easy year for competition, even though you'd think it would be--but I wanted to make sure to keep my hands in both worlds. After all, when it comes to it, maybe I'd rather be a physicist than a Potions mistress. I wanted to keep my options open."  
  
Like other Muggles who had magical children during the Death Eaters' reign, Jane's parents--astronomer Paul Hunter and meteorologist Angela (Gray) Hunter--were exposed to the magical world early on. In the Hunters' case, this knowledge came from a visit from a witch they were later able to identify as Minerva McGonagall, who saw Jane's name appear on the Hogwarts list in February.  
  
"Apparently, she'd kept the list in hiding," Jane says. "When she was here during our fifth year, I had a chance to talk to her a bit. She created a false list, you know, so the Death Eaters wouldn't have access to the real one, which showed all of us being born, and they wouldn't even know it was missing, though she says now that Severus Snape probably helped cover it as well. It was quite a dangerous thing for her to do, but she talked about it the way she might mention keeping a list of marks for her Transfiguration class. She's quite a lady."  
  
As Professor McGonagall was not free to contact the leaders of the resistance during that year, she took it upon herself to find and warn the Hunters of potential danger, should accidental magic draw attention to their newborn girl. Though resistant at first--like many Muggle scientists, they were dismissive of magical events--the Hunters were shocked into allowing her to construct protections when young Jane interrupted their meeting by making her bottle--for which she'd been crying--fly through the air to her.  
  
"It was a particularly well-timed bit of accidental magic, don't you think?" Jane asks. "So useful and believable. I was certainly clever for two weeks old. Professor McGonagall quite agreed that it was a remarkable coincidence." She smiles. "At any rate, they let her protect us, and we were safe. And we weren't at all surprised by the arrival of a Hogwarts letter."

* * *

Volume 7, Issue 37

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_24 June 2016_  
  
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 **By A Thread**  
  
 **Honoria Higgs: Useful**  
Part 16 of 16

**_Note:_ ** _It would be a fool's errand to pretend to interview myself, or to imagine that I could be entirely objective on the subject, so here, in my last piece for the Hogwarts Charmer\--a paper I love as well as I love some people in my life--I can only write the most personal piece I have ever submitted. I cannot pretend that it is anything else. --H.H._

* * *

There are moments that change lives.  
  
We think of the obvious ones first--births, marriages, deaths. Perhaps we remember a particular tragedy that shaped us, or a celebration we shared. Such moments are communal, known by everyone.  
  
But there are other moments, more profound moments, that perhaps we ourselves don't recognize at the time, and which may be entirely inconsequential to even the most vital participants other than ourselves.  
  
My name is Honoria Hepzibah Higgs. I was born to Terence and Catherine (Rackharrow) Higgs in Gibraltar on 12 May 1998, and for me, such a moment came in June of my first year at Hogwarts.  
  
I always wanted to be a reporter, like my godmother, Rita Skeeter, who had surreptitiously saved my father's life by sending him, along with my mother, to Gibraltar as soon as it became clear that Fenrir Greyback was placed highly among the Snatchers. My father had done some dangerous research on Greyback and his pack of allied werewolves the year before.

I didn't understand my own chosen profession, though, and spent much of my first year as nothing more than an avid gossip, creating this newspaper as much to cause personal distress as to report news. I made enemies among my year mates, and ultimately lost my own paper due to my own malicious behavior. Even this wasn't enough to change me, though--I spent the following weeks waiting for a story to report, a story that would make it unthinkable to keep me away from the Charmer.  
  
Late that June, such a story seemed to fall from the heavens.   
  
I looked down from the Astronomy Tower and saw Harry Potter and several teachers going to Professor Hagrid's cabin. I started down to spy on them, and instead found myself listening in on younger voices--Teddy Lupin and his friends, who were walking to the Forbidden Forest. I followed. I meant to do nothing but find out what they were up to, but as I was pushing the subject, Teddy and Tinny Gudgeon were attacked by Red Caps. I raised my wand, but didn't do anything. Teddy yelled at me to go back and get the adults. A part of me, starting to wake up, realized that I could help.  
  
Teddy said--and I remember this word for word--"You can help by doing something useful for once! Go to Hagrid's!"   
  
I quite doubt that he even remembers saying this to me, but it is one of those seconds in my life that is forever deeply etched on my mind. He presented me with a choice. I could follow and get a story and whatever glory came of it, or I could actually help save lives. I could do something useful.

I went to Professor Hagrid's and got the adults.  
  
At the time, I didn't mark this as a major life change. In fact, I rather resented being called "useful," like a mop or a broom maintenance kit. But as I look back across the years since, I realize that it was the moment when everything changed, when I had a choice about what kind of person I would become, and I made it. It took a long time for me to gain anyone's trust, but from that time on, the desire to be useful, to contribute in a real way, was part of my soul.  
  
I did not, of course, give up my ambition to be a reporter, but I was determined to earn my way into real respect. When Professor Slughorn agreed to let me come back if I wrote well, I started looking for a story that would change lives, and I found it when I met the children--now young adults--who had been rescued from Fenrir Greyback. I learned the real story, and I told it as well as I could, and as strongly as I could. It was my first serious story, the first that defined who I wanted to be as a reporter. There were some who called it propaganda, but it wasn't--it was a truth told in order to slay a lie that had been spreading. That's the real power of the press.  
  
Who would I have been in a different year, a year where I might have found a little knot of like-minded people first year and ignored the rest of my class? Would I have made the same choice that day in the woods if I'd had little clique of my own to impress, rather than having been utterly shunned by even my own House mates? I'd like to think I would have, but I can't, in all honestly, believe it.  
  
Being a part of the smallest year has defined us in ways that I think even we haven't understood yet. A part of each of us will always be standing there at the lake shore, huddled together, realizing the horrific price that was paid so that we might be there--a price paid by those who lived, those who died, and those who were never born because of the nightmare they all shared. We felt the debt that we owe them then, the responsibility to be worthy of their sacrifice, and we feel it still, with so few to share the weight of it--a single, fine thread to carry it by.  
  
When I started this piece, I meant only to give a sketch of each of us, to tell stories of how we came to survive, but as I've spoken with my year mates, as I've written, I've understood that it all came down to this--to understanding that moments change lives, that the past is a living and breathing part of the present, and that the life of any person, however independent, is woven inextricably into the lives of the people around her.  
  
My name is Honoria Hepzibah Higgs, and I can be useful if you ask.


	30. The Window of Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Smallest Year prepares to leave its Hogwarts years behind.

"Uncle Harry is never going to go on holiday again," Victoire said when Teddy stopped talking. "You know that, right?"  
  
Teddy reached out for the keys to Screech Hill. They appeared on the fencepost, and he unlocked the gate. "That's what Aunt Ginny's afraid of. I had a letter from her. She said I ought to tell him that I had it under control before he rushed off on a Muggle boat to catch a Muggle plane to somewhere he could Disapparate from." They went into the garden, and he locked the gate behind him. "Personally, I don't know how under control you could call that mess."  
  
"Cresswell's the only one who died--well, and that woman in the shop, which was before you even got involved--and they're busily sorting out who was Imperiused and who wasn't, and all of the prisoners are back in their cells." Victoire rolled her eyes. "Yes, Teddy, you did a terrible job. I can see that."  
  
"Geoff's still scarred."  
  
"Yes, he looks like he has a tiny piece of Spellotape stuck beneath his left ear. It's tragic, really." She sniffed, adjusted the basket on her arm, and looked away from him across the odd landscape of Screech Hill.   
  
The winter and spring had made the old cellar hole seem more natural than it had last autumn, and now it had the look of a tiny but ancient volcanic caldera, collapsed on one side and filled with rough grass and tiny wildflowers that had grown since Teddy's visit in March. The rosebush Mum had planted was growing wild again, but it didn't look like it was choking itself anymore. Tendrils were reaching out along the ground, toward the tulip-shaped bit of glass that Victoire had framed in October. The sun caught the glass prettily, throwing light around the clearing.  
  
"So, where should we plant Abbott's tree?" Victoire asked.  
  
"What?"  
  
She pointed at her basket. "The tree the Headmistress actually let us out to plant? For Abbott. Remember, the reason we're here? Abbott Longbottom? Two days old, obviously the most attractive child who has ever lived, at least if you're to judge by greenhouse gossip? "  
  
"I thought you knew where you wanted to plant it."  
  
"I was thinking about near the window," she said, pointing to the glass. "Is that all right?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
She frowned at him. "Aren't you even a bit excited?"  
  
"The Leaving Feast is tonight."  
  
"So?"  
  
"I don't want to Leave."  
  
She shook her head wearily, and started up the small hill. "You could still turn down the Department of Mysteries and become Professor Lupin after all. Come back in September. I think the Ancient Runes job is going to be open."  
  
"It's not quite the same."  
  
"True. Well, that's the way of it. You might just have to make the sacrifice of going to work someplace you really like and building a house on your own island instead."  
  
"Shut up, Vicky."  
  
She reached the top of the hill and set her basket down, then planted her hands on her hips and looked around. Her brow was knit, as it always was before she started a project. "All right," she said, "It'll get good exposure over there"--she pointed to a spot right of the glass--"and as it grows, it'll shade that window a bit. Maybe we should put some Charms on it to make sure it doesn't start fires like a big magnifying glass?"  
  
"I'll do that," Teddy said. "You plant the tree."  
  
She nodded and got the silver fir sapling out of her basket (it was meant, she said, to protect mothers and children). He went to the glass and began to do safety spells on it. It was good to be here, away from the school, where all the talk since the smallest year had returned (sans Geoffrey, until yesterday) had been about Cresswell and battles and the round-up of followers. Sam's mother and brother had been found in the home of one of the Azkaban guards he'd co-opted, and they were apparently unrepentant. They'd accused Ruthless of murder, of course, but that had been expected, and no one who wasn't already mad believed it.  
  
Alas, there were quite a lot of people who were already mad. Sam's closest followers had only numbered around twenty-five, all told--they'd invaded the farm where Sam had been captured and set up a little commune--but they'd had no trouble finding extra hands among the disillusioned, at least for their less extreme activities. These had turned a rather cynical eye in the Ministry's direction, and there were dark whispers of protective conspiracies to "hide the truth of what happened." Ruthless wasn't concerned about "the nutters," or at least said she wasn't, and Teddy was trying not to be, a job that was made more difficult by the continued presence of Geoff's admirers, emboldened by his "marking."  
  
Here, though, that was far away. When Professor Longbottom had burst into the Great Hall, delirious with glee, to announce the birth of his son, it had felt to Teddy like the real world finally reasserting itself, with cheerful vengeance, on a nightmare he'd been trapped in. He'd been more than happy to let Victoire lead the way with her project, and being here, in the garden of the house that would have been his, looking through a window that had once been part of it, he felt fully himself again.  
  
"I should do something with this," he said when he'd finished the safety Charms. "Make it into something."  
  
Victoire looked up from the hole she was currently digging. "Like what?"  
  
"I don't know. Something like the Fountain of Fair Fortune or whatnot. People would come looking for it to look through it and get answers."  
  
"Answers?"  
  
"Sure. Wise ones. Deeply meaningful, you know."  
  
"Ah." She inspected the hole, scooped a little bit more dirt out, then put the sapling into it. "And what sorts of answers would they be looking for? In a place, I should remind you, that can't be entered without your keys."  
  
"Well, then finding the keys will have to be the real quest." Teddy warmed to the subject. "They'll go looking for the keys to find the window that will show them, er..."  
  
"What they want most?"  
  
"The Mirror of Erised does that."  
  
"Hmm. What's most important to them?"  
  
Teddy considered this. "That has possibilities. I think I wouldn't be able to do it before a really solid stint in Identity, though, and I still might need help from James's portrait. He was the real Identity expert."  
  
She started filling in the hole around the sapling. "There's no rush. Maybe they could see something different from each side."  
  
"What's important in the past, and what's important in the future?" Teddy grinned. "That might have helped me set a few priorities. But would anyone really go on a quest for that? It should be bigger. Where you fit in all of history or whatnot."  
  
"Maybe it could show the creation of the world and the end of the universe."  
  
"Now, you're just mocking me."  
  
She laughed. "Quite a lot, yes. Come over here and help with a few Charms, all right?"  
  
He went over and together they placed some protective Charms on Abbott's tree. The conversation drifted to idle family gossip (Fleur's hotel was nearly built) and book sales ( _Martian's Mistake_ had slowed down, but had an inexplicable resurgence last month), and soon, the little sapling looked well entrenched in its new place. Victoire poured a bottle of fertilizing potion over it. "You probably don't want to know what's in it," she said.

"Probably not."

"I guess we're done here, then."

"Until the next baby, anyway."

She leaned against him, and he put his arm around her. "I hope it's a big forest," she said.  "And healthy.  And happy."

"Then it will be," he said.  He turned her around and kissed her.  It wasn't a plan, or even an irresistible desire.  It just felt _right._  

She pulled away and ran her fingers through his hair.  "I don't think it's time yet."

"But it will be time someday?"

"Yeah.  And I think--when it's time--that'll be _it._   Don't you feel that?  Like… like once we get there, we're _there_?"

"I think the fact that that makes perfect sense to me is a good sign, anyway."

She kissed him again, then cuddled up into an embrace.  He held her for a long time, then let go of her.  They walked hand in hand to the gate, and let go when he re-set the security charms.  They didn't take each other's hands again when they set off for school, walking along the side of the wild little valley where the tunnel had once been. A recent rainfall had left a long, thin pool at the bottom, and a few dragonflies and fairies were flitting around above it. The squarish stones that had once supported the tunnel's roof now lay scattered and moss-covered on the slopes.  
  
"Is your year doing anything special?" Victoire asked, about halfway back.  
  
"Tinny said she was thinking about something. I'm not sure what."  
  
"I wish the train didn't leave before the seventh years got into the boats. I think it would be nice to say goodbye to the lot of you."  
  
Teddy shrugged. "Well, Roger's not leaving anyway," he said. "He's going to skip the boats and just stay in the barns. He said there's a new monster coming in. Wouldn't say what."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"And Frank Driscoll's leaving first thing, before breakfast. Wood got him a try-out for Puddlemere, but they could only take him at eight-thirty. And--" Teddy stopped. "Wow. I guess the Leaving Feast really is the end. And that's only if Phillips can be bothered to come to it. It might already be over." He reconsidered. "Then again, I doubt Honoria would have let it go by without one last chance at a picture and article."  
  
"I don't know, if you didn't tell her how she could be useful..."  
  
Teddy blushed. Ever since Honoria's last article had come out, he'd had to deal with people taking the mickey out of him for being her moral muse. He'd expected Corky to be annoyed, but apparently, Corky had known the entire story for at least a year, and had essentially dared her to write it.  
  
They reached the school walls and walked quietly to the gate. Teddy expected Roger to be waiting for him, but instead, it was Tinny Gudgeon. She smiled.  "I wanted to talk to you, Lupin," she said, the spotted Victoire.  "Hi, Weasley."

"Hi, Tinny.  I'm on my way up to Gryffindor."

"Oh, you can -- "

Victoire waved it off and turned to go.  She looked back at Teddy and smiled, and he knew she was right.  It would be time someday.

Tinny led the way to Hufflepuff, talking excitedly and sending off her grey seal Patronus casually as they went back to the castle. She'd wanted to talk to Teddy, she claimed, though she didn't really give him much space to get a word in edgewise.   
  
By the time they got to Hufflepuff, Corky and Honoria were already there, and Donzo ran down just as she was opening the door. The others came more slowly, and Geoff and Roger didn't make it at all, though Geoff gave Franklin Driscoll permission to bring his notes from the year's project. ("Talked like it was a real sacrifice," Franklin said. "But I reckon he'd've complained if I _didn't_ ask for them, too.")  
  
There was a brief discussion about eating together at the Leaving Feast, but all of them had younger friends in their Houses, and it seemed to be with them one last time. "Not that I'll ever stop being a Hufflepuff," Laura said. "You wouldn't believe all the job interviews I've had offered since Honoria's story said I didn't have a real job in mind yet."  
  
They finished Tinny's project fifteen minutes before the Leaving Feast, and walked up to the Great Hall together. A few people were eying them oddly, and Neil Overby, at the Slytherin table, looked inconsolable.  
  
Teddy smiled at his friends, and made his way to the Gryffindor table, where the Weasley girls made room for him. Across from him, Celia Dean was in the middle of an exciting sounding monologue about her final exams. Teddy was content to listen to it until Marie changed the subject, speculating on which House had won the House Cup.  
  
"Hufflepuff won the Quidditch Cup," she said, "so that's a good number of points, but Anna Smith got caught stealing Potions supplies, and lost a good number. Has Ravenclaw done anything this year?"  
  
"Good or bad?" Victoire asked.  
  
"Either."  
  
"Depends on whether or not they give last minute points for what happened at Azkaban." Victoire smiled slightly at Teddy.  
  
Marie looked crestfallen. "There were five Ravenclaws there, and only one Gryffindor," she said. She shook her head sadly at this injustice, then sighed. "Other than that, though, just academic points."  
  
Victoire raised an eyebrow. "Which really ought to count more in a school, don't you think?"  
  
Marie wrinkled her nose.  
  
At the head table, Professor Sprout stood up and tapped her goblet for attention. "We're here to bid farewell to another year at Hogwarts, and to our seventh years, who will go out into the world tomorrow. The school will be less interesting without you." She nodded to each table, and gave space for applause. Teddy considered shouting out that she needn't worry about a dull year with James coming in September, but chose not to. As an adult going out into the world, he supposed his days of yelling from tables were over. Sprout smiled fondly as the applause died and said, "Yes, very well, seventh years. I hope none of you will be strangers. I'm sure you've already discovered that those who came before you in your Houses will be there to help you, and hope that, as you commit to your adult lives, you will also help those who come after you." She looked down at Professor Longbottom. "Are you ready?"  
  
Professor Longbottom stood up. "I have an announcement to make. I will be stepping down as Head of Gryffindor House"--he held his hand up to stop the outpouring of scandalized chattering from the table--"because I find that I can't properly discharge my duties while living off school grounds. I'll still be your Herbology Professor, and I hope you'll still feel free to come to me if you have problems, but Professor Robards will be taking over as Head of House." Professor Robards waved, and Teddy did his best to encourage hearty applause. Professor Longbottom smiled. "Oh, and to various seventh years I may be seeing soon, please remember that, as soon as you get across the lake tomorrow morning, my first name will no longer be 'Professor.'" He sat down.  
  
The Headmistress waited for quiet, then said, "If that will be all, I believe I have a House Cup to award."  
  
Teddy himself had never been enamored of the House Cup. With most of his friends in different Houses, it had simply never been a great priority. But the younger students in larger years had begun to stir up a healthy rivalry again--Victoire and Story's prank war had created a good-natured but intense Gryffindor-Ravenclaw competition--and the Great Hall fell silent as Sprout picked up a scroll.  
  
"I have already added our last minute points," she said. "As they were not posted, I will say that the participants in the events at Azkaban were awarded twenty-five points each for great bravery. I further award Honoria Higgs of Slytherin ten points for her much-discussed series of editorials in the paper that she created, and which we hope will be a legacy at Hogwarts for many years."  
  
Teddy was surprised to see Honoria actually blush.  
  
"That said," Sprout went on, "the points are as follows. In fourth place, Ravenclaw, with 297 points. In third place, Gryffindor, with 301 points. In second place, Hufflepuff, with 306 points, and in first place, Slytherin, with 327 points. Congratulations, Slytherin!" She raised her wand to change the colors.  
  
Corky, who had been huddling with the other Slytherin prefects since Honoria's points had been announced, stood up. "Headmistress?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"The Slytherin prefects request that all the Houses be represented for the Leaving Feast, no matter who won."  
  
Sprout looked surprised. "Very well," she said. With a flick of her wand, the banners hanging on the walls changed, so that they alternated the House colors around the room.  
  
The food appeared, and Teddy tucked into the feast. Celia was already planning ways to increase Gryffindor's points next year, though this year, she'd apparently lost more than she gained by taking on several mad dares from the other second years. About halfway through, Aimee cajoled Teddy into morphing for her amusement, and he spent the rest of the meal surrounded by younger Gryffindors asking him to try dogs' ears and bird beaks and the faces of any number of teachers and celebrities.  
  
After pudding, people began to drift out to finish whatever packing they had left, and the Great Hall was considerably quieter when Tinny came over, the other seventh year Hufflepuffs in tow, and tapped Teddy on the shoulder. "It's time," she said. "Let's go."  
  
Teddy nodded, said goodnight to the Weasley girls (though he was sure they'd still be up packing when he got back, running back and forth to return everything they'd borrowed from one another through the year), and followed Tinny to the other tables. He fell in beside Corky on the way outside.  
  
"What was that about?" he asked. "The House colors."  
  
Corky shrugged. "Tinny and I had been doing the math. We knew it was going to be one of us, no matter what happened with the last minute points. And it didn't seem right for our last night to be about one House or the other. So we agreed that whichever one it was would convince the other prefects."  
  
"How did you do that?"  
  
"Do you know how much Maurice has changed things? They _all_ want to fix Slytherin's problems now. So I just pointed out that it would look really, really good if we made a big gesture."  
  
"Oh."  
  
When they went through the door, the pleasant-smelling night air greeted them, and the sounds of night birds over the lake's waves filled the dark with wild music. They paused together.  
  
Tinny looked over her shoulder.  
  
"We're still missing a few."  
  
"Franklin's still trying to get Geoff to come," Connie Deverill said. "It could take a while. Are we in a hurry?"  
  
Tinny shook her head.  
  
Donzo went ahead to the lake and sat down on a rock, pulling out his guitar to play softly. The rest of the year drifted in gradually, ending with Franklin Driscoll, nearly manhandling Geoff Phillips down the hill… though, to be fair, Geoff looked like he was only protesting for form's sake.

Donzo was playing something that seemed both light and oddly mournful. He looked up, not stopping. "This is it, then."  
  
Teddy nodded. "This is it."  
  
They waited without speaking until Franklin and Geoff made it down. Franklin looked more irritated than moved by the moment, and Geoff looked affectedly sullen. But they were here.  
  
Together, the smallest year stood on the shore of the night-black lake, the stars above them watching impassively.  
  
Tinny Gudgeon stepped forward and said, "Let's do it, then."

She twirled her wand, and a row of twenty-five paper boats appeared on the ground. Each was covered with names, and they'd spent the afternoon Charming them to be impervious to water and fire. Teddy began Conjuring candles in each one.  
  
"We don't know all of their names," Tinny said. "Or who they would have been, if they hadn't been killed before they were born. But we know some names, at least, thanks to Geoff." She nodded to him. He looked both annoyed and pleased. She took a deep breath. "For the names we know--Anderson, Singh, Gordon, Woodruff, Barrett, Campbell, Wilbore, and Lyon." She lit the candles. "And for the ones who got away safely and live in other places, but never came home." She nodded to Joe Palmer.  
  
"Rebecca Britton," he said. "Living in South Africa." He Conjured a picture of a pretty girl with red hair.   It hovered beside him. "Tabitha Leonard, United States. Phillip Whiting, Australia. Alphonse Malcolm, Jamaica. Joshua Lewis and Caitlin Simms, New Zealand. Chloe Tyler, Belarus. Henry Harrison and Declan Charles, Canada." Each picture appeared in the air, then sank down and bonded with one of the boats. Joe Conjured candles for them.  
  
"That's seventeen," Donzo said. "A class of thirty-two. Still small." He took the remaining eight boats. "We don't know how many might have been born if their parents hadn't died, or how many weren't born because other things that happened in the war. So, when Tinny asked, I looked at the average year. For the last thirty years or so, the average has been around forty students in a year. That means we were missing twenty-five. We can't say for sure that the Hat would have Sorted them evenly, but..." He shrugged, sheepish. "Well, we can't say anything with any certainty, but it's usually close, except in our year. We know that Gryffindor was badly hurt. The rest... Ravenclaw and Slytherin are missing five. Hufflepuff is missing six."  
  
There was no attempt to split the boats by guessing who might have been in which house. The Slytherins and Ravenclaws took one boat each. Roger and Laura each took one, and Tinny and Joe each took two. Teddy looked at the remaining nine boats, their candles flickering in the night, and thought about his nearly empty dormitory, and about the dormitory on the girls' side that had been empty for seven years. Next year, they'd be full again. Next year, that haunted gap would be closed.  
  
Tinny set her two boats down wordlessly, and Joe followed her, whispering an embarrassed sounding "Goodbye."   
  
Laura took her single boat to the shore, kissed it, then set it afloat. "We've missed you," she said.  
  
Roger sighed, smiled at his boat, and said, "I'll probably be picking you up from the shore tomorrow afternoon. See you then." He sent it on its way.  
  
Teddy reached for his wand to Levitate his boats to the water--he couldn't carry all nine--but stopped when he heard Donzo's voice coming softly into the shadows. His guitar, Charmed to play on its own, leaned against a rock.  
  
 _"The House of Hufflepuff stayed true  
And its blood first was shed  
Their loyal hearts are counted  
Among the honored dead."_  
  
It took Teddy a moment to recognize it--Donzo was using a different melody--but when he did, he understood. It was the part of the Sorting Hat's song that spoke about the losses each House had suffered--the song the Sorting Hat had sung on the night they'd arrived. And it wasn't his turn yet.  
  
Leading the rest of the Ravenclaws to the water, Donzo continued to sing.  
  
 _"In the airy tow'r of Ravenclaw,  
the final war began  
In solving the last mystery,  
the fear became mere man."_  
  
He set his own boat down, then moved aside for Geoff. Teddy thought Geoff would just storm off at the sentimentality, but instead, he set his boat down and watched it float away, an unreadable expression on his face.  
  
Lizzie Richardson whispered something to her boat as Donzo finished the verse, and set it on the water. Franklin Driscoll said, "Bye, then. Maybe I'll see you somewhere," and Connie Deverell used her wand to draw a smile onto the parchment of hers. They all slipped away into the night.  
  
Donzo sang again.  
  
 _"In the end, the darkness must  
Be fought from deep within  
And so the secret heroes rose  
From shadowed Slytherin."_  
  
Corky and Honoria walked hand in hand, each holding a boat. They set them on the water, then she leaned against him and he put his arm over her shoulder.  
  
Brendan Lynch muttered something Teddy couldn't hear, and let his boat go. Jane Hunter shored up the waterproofing with a quick spell, then said, "Sorry this is the best we can do." She let it go.  
  
Maurice was the last Slytherin, and he looked at his boat and said, "You know I'd've kept you in line, right?" The other Slytherins smiled as he let it go.  
  
Donzo waited for them to step back, then sang the final verse. Teddy Levitated his boats to the water.  
  
 _"Bold Gryffindor, as always, took  
the deepest cut of all  
The scarlet blood and banner  
Laid claim upon this hall."_  
  
All of the boats were in the water now, sailing off into the darkness. Donzo continued singing.  
  
 _"But battles fade into the past  
And we, the left behind,  
Rebuild and heal, move on and do  
The tasks we've been assigned.  
  
Throughout it all, I sort the lot--  
It always shall be so.  
They even tried to burn me once,  
but I refused to go!  
  
So I came back from fiery doom  
Despite a little singe  
To join the future to the past--  
I stand upon the hinge!"_  
  
The last verse, though it hadn't been the last of the Hat's song, was slowed down, and it finished with a soft guitar coda. The last boats were disappearing into the blackness of the night.  
  
The silence held for what seemed a long time, no one moving. Finally, like he was waking up, Roger straightened his shoulders and sighed. "Well, it's been fun, but I'd best get some sleep. I want to get the hippogriffs curried before Hagrid's new pet arrives."  
  
"You won't be on the real boats with us?" Laura asked.  
  
He shook his head, and went down toward Hagrid's hut.  
  
"I'm gone, too," Franklin said. "Wood's picking me up at dawn for my Puddlemere tryout."  
  
Everyone vaguely wished him good luck.  
  
"I'm leaving now," Geoff said. "I've had enough of this. My things are already at home."  
  
"Don't let us stop you," Donzo said, but with none of the rancor he generally reserved for Geoff.  
  
" _Do_ let us stop you," Tinny said, giving Donzo a frustrated look. "Stay for the boats at least."  
  
Geoff looked confused by this, but said, "No. Thank you. I have plans with friends in the city. There's a protest first thing. Muggle business.  But thank you." He frowned, then walked off down the lakeshore, disappearing into the same shadows that had swallowed the paper boats and candles.  
  
The rest stayed for a few more minutes, but the evening was getting damp, and they knew that tomorrow had to come eventually. They drifted back to the castle.  
  
Teddy stopped at the door. Donzo looked over his shoulder. "Are you coming, Lupin?"  
  
"I'll fly back to my room," Teddy said. "There's someplace else I need to go."  
  
"Do you want company?"  
  
"No."  
  
Donzo nodded and went inside.  
  
Teddy walked around the castle slowly, looking up at the lights, hearing last night laughter coming from many open windows. He came to the rocky slope under the north battlements, where his parents had died, where he'd found his father's wedding ring buried in the icy earth.  
  
He sat down, and took the ring out. He thought he might have hit the end of its stored memories, but he cast the spell anyway, and re-lived the Marauders' last night at Hogwarts--sitting up late, passing around a bottle of Firewhiskey and a paper pirate's hat, talking about a future they'd never really had. When it was over, Teddy took out the Marauder's Map and looked at it for a long time, watching people move around the castle. He didn't prod them into talking, though he supposed he would before he gave it up.   
  
He sighed. "All right, then. Best we could do."  
  
He transformed into a hawk and flew back to his room, where Checkmate was waiting patiently on top of his mostly packed trunk. When he lay down on his bed, she jumped over onto the pillow and curled up around his head, resting her chin over his left eye. He fell asleep to her purr.  
  
The next morning was too busy for reminiscing. He hid the Keys to the Castle under a floorboard for James and sealed it with the sign of a hawk's feather etched on the floor, rendered invisible with a spell that ought to be breakable by a first year who would figure out it was there. Then it was the last minute packing--his favorite books, his pajamas and towels and toothbrush, and of course, the portrait of his parents and Sirius. This last proved problematic, as Mum kept running off to return things she'd borrowed from other portraits during the year, and Teddy finally had to send Dad to get her. For his part, Sirius was bound to try one last time to get into the portraits in the Headmistress's office, "to needle old Snivelly." Teddy finally got them all in the frame and managed to get it into his trunk just before someone--he had still not ascertained who, though he suspected the elves--Vanished it. It would reappear on the Hogwarts Express.  
  
He gathered up Checkmate and looked around the room. "This is it, Checks," he said. "Have a look around."  
  
Checkmate didn't seem to care to have a final look. She saw her basket waiting, and squirmed to get away. Teddy put her into a magical sleep, and went down to breakfast.  
  
Breakfast was the usual rushed affair, everyone trading invitations to everyone else's homes over the summer. The younger students went off, chattering, to the thestral drawn carriages, leaving the smallest year (minus Franklin, Geoff, and Roger) alone in the Great Hall.  
  
Professor Longbottom went to the main door and called them forward, one by one, in reverse alphabetical order. When they'd gathered around him--most of them now taller than he was--he solemnly shook their hands, then led them down to the boat docks under the school.  
  
Teddy tapped Honoria's shoulder, and Maurice's. She grinned and stepped away from Corky to get into a boat. Teddy and Maurice climbed in with her.  
  
"Wolf-morph at me again, Lupin," she said, "and this time _you're_ going in the water."  
  
Teddy laughed.  
  
They traveled again in four boats, this time with only three people in each one. The bright midmorning sun shone over them instead of the pale full moon, and they laughed together, racing the boats magically over the surface of the lake. A hippogriff swooped above them, and Roger waved cheerfully, coming down to skim the water beside them for a moment before heading back to the grounds. Together, they sailed forward toward the train, leaving Hogwarts Castle in the past.


	31. Epilogue: The Great Post-Hogwarts Writing Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy has one more task to complete before he leaves his school days behind him.

The car making its way up the mountain road was wheezing with the effort--it was no longer young, even by human standards, let alone automotive standards, and it had been rudely transported away from the city by magic a few too many times--but it was giving its all for the young man coaxing it along. Bits of ancient music escaped its speakers, tinny whispers from bygone worlds. The young man sang along with it, completely at ease behind the wheel, though he'd only been driving legally for five days. The boy beside him in the passenger seat didn't know the songs, but he gave it his best effort, at least until it bored him.  
  
"Teddy?" James asked.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Where are we going today, anyway?"  
  
"We're not far from the Scrimgeours," Teddy suggested. "We could stop in.  You might want to meet Ruthless's brothers; they'll be in school with you."  
  
"I've met them." James shrugged and turned in his seat, looking out the open window and letting the breeze toss his hair. "This is much better than Side-Along. We should drive everywhere. You can see things."  
  
"It would have taken us a whole day just to get here if we'd driven from home.  Maybe more.  It's a long way from London to Argyll."  
  
"Oh." James rifled through the maps that were littered around his feet. "Hey, there's a cairn near here. Abandoned. That could be a good spot. Take the next right."  
  
Teddy agreed. He had no plan for these outings. Ostensibly, he and James were looking for places to set the next few books. They both knew that it was also some time to spend together--Teddy's apprenticeship wouldn't start until autumn (Maddie had insisted that he take time to clear his head and "get out of Hogwarts"), but he'd be joining Donzo, Corky, and Maurice in August for an abbreviated world tour, and he might not be back before James went to school. An excuse was needed to spend time together--one didn't just say, "Hey, I want to spend a few hours with you!"--and future books seemed as good an excuse as any.  
  
Only Teddy knew that there was another purpose to the trip, another real purpose to spending time with James.  
  
Each day, he'd _meant_ to end their adventure by giving James the Marauder's Map. He had it fully scripted in his mind. But every day, something held him back. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't selfishness, but he didn't quite believe it.  
  
James didn't notice that anything was amiss. He seemed completely happy to ride around the Scottish countryside with Teddy. "I have an idea," he said. "There's a Yeti."  
  
"A Yeti?"  
  
He nodded. "Up in the mountains, and he's got a treasure. We can send them--the fake Marauders, right?--up after him, and they have to walk through solid ice, where they can't use their wands."  
  
"How would that work?"  
  
"I don't know. I hoped you'd have an idea."  
  
"I'll think about it. A Yeti's good." Teddy took a right, and followed some cleverly concealed signs to the ruin of the cairn. He parked the car on a flat expanse of grass and got out.   
  
James followed, looking around excitedly. "Oh, this is great! Not for the Yeti one, unless there's a secret passage, but Martian and Checkmate could come here!"  
  
"Sure--there's a mummy cat queen down there--all the best cairns have them--and they have to defeat her to rescue some kittens."  
  
James laughed, and proceeded to explore. Teddy touched the Marauder's Map, which was in his inner pocket, Dad's wand tethered securely to it. He pulled his empty hand out, and joined James's exploration.  
  
The next day, their explorations only got as far as Diagon Alley, where Teddy accompanied the Potters to get James's school supplies, and his wand. Berit Ollivander had fully taken over the shop now, as old Mr. Ollivander had passed, but she hadn't made any great changes, and didn't offer any of the experimental cores she'd been tinkering with during Teddy's first year.  
  
"Are you still using your mother's wand?" she asked Teddy while she let James get in a little practice.  
  
"As well as I can."  
  
"And what about your father's? I remember that it had an affinity for you as well."  
  
Teddy smiled. "It has a purpose of its own."  
  
She raised an eyebrow, but didn't press for details.  
  
The day passed. The map was back in Teddy's school book bag.  
  
Teddy Disapparated back to his island. He'd put the portrait of his parents up on the wall of the little shack, and they seemed happy, though Mum was restless with nowhere to go. Teddy had bought a few landscapes so she could at least have some variety, and when he got home, she was on a badly painted garden swing, some ribbons in her hair blowing in the breeze. Dad and Sirius were absent; they must have gone to the Grimmauld Place portrait.  
  
"Hi, Mum," Teddy said, hanging his jacket on a peg on the wall. "Do you want me to take the portrait to Grimmauld Place?"  
  
"Are you living there?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then, no. I'm quite fine here." She swung a bit. "Did you do it?"  
  
He shook his head.  
  
She sighed. "Teddy, that Map is doing you no earthly good away from Hogwarts."  
  
"I know. It just never seems to be the right time. And there's Dad's wand. It belongs to the Map."  
  
"Yes, it does." She brought the swing to a stop and got off of it, and walked up to the frame. "Maybe you should talk to him about that."  
  
"He's at Grimmauld Place."  
  
"No, Teddy. Talk to _him._ " With this, she went back to the swing, and starting humming softly.  
  
Teddy understood, but didn't obey right away. Instead, he took the Map out, tinkered with its spells a bit, and got the Marauders to insult him a few times. He cleared it and looked at Dad's wand, with his name and the word "Unforgotten" carved into it. He sighed, put the Map aside, and took out the crystal ball that he'd got from the Daedalus Maze.  
  
He put it down beside the bed and went to sleep.  
  
He was aware first of a cool breeze, then of the soft, repetitive sound of snoring coming from somewhere to his left. He opened his eyes.  
  
It was Gryffindor Tower--the round, stone room was unmistakable, but it wasn't his own room. There were four beds, each shoved as far as possible against the curved wall. He wasn't in one of them. He and three other boys were sleeping, or perhaps "unconscious" would have been a better description. It was Peter Pettigrew snoring; an empty Firewhiskey bottle was loosely held in one pudgy hand. James Potter--the first, though his hand rested on the shiny new first year books that Teddy's James had just bought--was lying on his stomach. Dad was right beside Teddy. He rolled over and smiled blearily, then looked toward the window. Teddy followed his eyes.  
  
Sirius Black was sitting on the window sill, another bottle leaning against his knees, a parchment tricorn tipped back on his head. He looked over his shoulder. His eyes had a faint glow, and Teddy knew it wasn't just the moonlight. He smiled.  
  
"Have a seat," he said, indicating the other side of the window sill.  
  
Teddy got to his feet and went to the window, taking up the position opposite Sirius. Beneath them, the Hogwarts grounds stretched forever. There was no White Tomb on the edge of the lake, and Teddy knew that, somewhere beyond the tree line, the Shrieking Shack still stood in its lonely glamor.  
  
Sirius held out the bottle, then pulled it back. "Sorry. Can't extend proper manners, I'm afraid. Your mum would have my head if I let you drink here."  
  
"I know the rules," Teddy said.  
  
Sirius nodded wisely, then took a swig out of the bottle. "I stayed up all night," he said. "After they passed out. I didn't want to miss a second."  
  
"Oh." Teddy turned this piece of information over, letting his eyes wander over the parchment hat, which seemed to be crisscrossed with notes in Dad's hand.  
  
Sirius noticed and took it off. "We had a pirate party for Peter's birthday first year. Your dad made this for him. You've had that memory, haven't you? It hung off his bed every day after. I don't know what happened to it." He reached across and put it on Teddy's head. "Looks good, mate. It's a new look for you."  
  
Teddy smiled and took it off--like everything in the land of the dead, it was cold to the touch, and queerly insubstantial. "I should have given James the Map by now," he said.  
  
"Well, it's not going to do you much good at the Ministry. Or anywhere else you're going to be, unless you decide on teaching after all."  
  
"And that wouldn't be quite fair."  
  
"No."   
  
Teddy looked longingly at the Firewhiskey. He didn't really like the stuff, but the thought of having a quiet drink with Sirius, and maybe Dad and James if they'd wake up, was appealing.  
  
Sirius corked the bottle and set it off to one side. "What binds is bound, Wings," he said. "Nothing changes that." He pointed out the window, and the grounds changed to the old yellow tone of the Map, stretching out further than the boundaries had ever gone in reality. "What binds is bound," he said again. "Always."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"If you can't trust a mad drunk who's been dead for twenty years, who can you trust?"  
  
Teddy rolled his eyes. "Well, when you put it like that..."  
  
"So, like it or not, and against what I'm sure is your inherent better judgment, you're stuck with us. Map or not." He shrugged. "And this isn't precisely what we made it for, you know. It's meant to be used for fun. That's what it ought to be used for."  
  
"I know." Teddy leaned back against the edge of the window. Sirius gave him a ghastly, sad sort of smile, and they didn't talk anymore. Teddy just sat with him, waiting for the inky sun to rise over the parchment hills. At some point, Dad and James joined him.  
  
He woke up blearily in the middle of the night, noticed Dad and Sirius back in the portrait talking to Mum, and went back to sleep.  
  
At dawn, he awakened and folded the Map up, thinking, _I will never open or close the Map again_. The thought tugged at him, but didn't paralyze him as he went about his morning business, and had lunch with Ruthless.  
  
"You were just going to _hand_ it to him?" she asked, her eyebrows disappearing under the fluffy explosion of red fringe over her eyes. "Honestly, Teddy. It's the Marauder's Map. Wasn't half the fun discovering it? Didn't Harry give it to you anonymously, anyway?" She shook her head. "Your problem here is that you're not trying to give it away so much as find a temporary babysitter for it. You know that's not how it passes."  
  
He blinked. "I hadn't really thought of it like that."  
  
"Yes, well, I had an outside view of you and that Map. I'd no idea what it was, but I knew something had suddenly caught your interest. Let James discover it for himself. And the Map-Master after him, and after him."  
  
"But--"  
  
"Teddy, it's just possible that you're not meant to control the fate of the Marauder's Map for all eternity. Let it breathe."  
  
"All right."  
  
As the afternoon wore on--Teddy spent some of it in the Department of Mysteries, getting his office ready--an idea grew in his mind, and the rightness of it made it easier to go forward with.  
  
The Marauder's Map was meant for mischief, not stodgy inheritance. The question was _how_ to pass it on properly.

* * *

Lily and Al had been sulking for two days now, since James wouldn't let them play with his new wand (rowan with a dragon heartstring core, and he kept it on him at all times), so he was particularly glad that Teddy was over for dinner again, especially since he seemed to be in a mood for stories. James had even let Teddy try his wand out, mainly to annoy Al. Teddy didn't cast a spell, though, unless it was nonverbal--and if it was, it didn't do anything.   
  
Dad let them use his office, and they had the place pretty well taken over. James had got Al to draw several pictures of the fake Marauders--named Raymond Lewis, Sir Ryan Brown, and Jason Clay--a few months ago. His hand was a lot surer than James's own, and Teddy, despite having an artist for a father, couldn't draw a stick figure without coaching. Al's pictures were taped to Dad's desk and the windows, for inspiration, and crumpled lengths of parchment were tossed merrily around.   
  
"So, what if we have a portal in the back of the Yeti's cave?" James suggested. "They could go through it and find out how to get back to the island, right? And then they could get their extra wands."  
  
"Well... all right." Teddy shuffled a few bits of parchment. "But maybe it would be better if they worked it out for themselves, don't you think?"  
  
James shrugged. "There are good wands on the island. They'd win really fast with them."  
  
"If it's what you want..." But Teddy's wrinkled nose made it perfectly clear that he thought there were better ways, and, on second thought, James agreed. The whole point was to work without wands, not find a way to get new ones.  
  
He shrugged. It would be totally different by the time they got up Mt. Everest and met the Yeti anyway. They worked a bit longer, then Mum called them down for pudding. Teddy suddenly got annoyingly grown-up, talking about Ministry politics with Dad for an hour. James fidgeted.  
  
Teddy was watching him out of the corner of his eye. "You know, James," he said, "I meant to give you my old school book bag. I noticed you didn't buy one."  
  
"Your book bag?" James repeated, nonplussed. Teddy's book bag was cool, in a sort of inherited-from-an-older-student way, but it wasn't anything special.  
  
"Yeah. It's up on your dad's desk, if you want it."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Teddy raised his eyebrows. "James?"  
  
"What, I'm meant to go now?"  
  
"Well, you don't seem very interested in the intricacies of Ministerial appointments."  
  
"I figured you might change the subject."  
  
Dad narrowed his eyes, then smiled faintly and said, "Teddy and I are in the middle of a conversation, James. And we're both quite interested in it."  
  
James rolled his eyes and went back upstairs. The room was exactly the disaster they'd left it in, although Teddy could have cleaned it up with a flick of his wand. The book bag was sitting on the desk. It was scuffed leather, with a Gryffindor seal on it. Ink bottles had broken in it more than once, by the look of it.  
  
He picked it up. Something at the bottom rattled.  
  
James frowned and turned the bag over, to see what Teddy had forgotten. A folded sheaf of parchment fell out onto Dad's desk. James picked it up and held it. It had a strange, tingling weight to it. Under it was a light-colored, aged wand with deep finger grooves in it. On one side, it said "Remus Lupin." On the other it said, "Unforgotten."  
  
James blinked, an idea dawning on him, an old story rising up in his memory.  
  
"Of course," he whispered.  
  
He unfolded the parchment. A tiny slip of paper fell out. On it, in Teddy's hand, were the words, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."  
  
James looked over his shoulder. Mum's magical clock was on the wall. In the kitchen, she was magically cleaning up. Downstairs, Dad and Teddy sounded like they'd got into a Transfiguration duel. Lily had a bag of Weasley products, and he could hear her down the corridor, setting off Curses on sweets.  
  
Too much magic to notice one little bit of underage wand-waving.  
  
He drew his wand, pointed it at the parchment and said, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."  
  
Thin lines appeared at the center:  
  
 _Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs  
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers  
are proud to present  
The Marauder's Map_  
  
And in a new hand--simpler and fresher:  
  
 _M. Wings_  
Aide and co-conspirator  
Welcomes the newly bound.  
  
James Potter smiled.

**THE END**

****


End file.
